


Holly Potter and the Champions

by cheesew97



Series: The Biography of Holly Potter [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Gen, Genderbending, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesew97/pseuds/cheesew97
Summary: The summer holidays seem never-ending and Holly Potter can't wait for the start of the school term. It is her fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and there are spells to learn and (sadly) Potions and Divination lessons to attend. To cap it all off, hormones are making a mockery of sense and sensibility, and Holly could find herself in a quandary as her friends uncover frightening new aspects to their lives. At least the visitors from other schools seem an interesting bunch.But Holly needs to be on her guard at all times- her worst enemy is preparing a horrifying fate for her...





	1. The Summer-Ronnie

**Author's Note:**

> Quite happy that I managed to knock out this chapter over an afternoon, doubly so after my proofreader got back to me in half the time. Needless to say, this chapter will hint at some of the possible conflicts to come in the coming year. 
> 
> Speaking of which, I've drawn up a plan, or plans, for primary, secondary and tertiary plotlines, though I probably won't get round to writing much until June. 
> 
> In other news, a few of those aforementioned drawings are now on my deviantart account.   
> http://cheesew97.deviantart.com/

**The Summer**

Ronnie sighed contentedly; this was the life. A soft breeze rustled her towel under the shade of the parasol. Despite all her initial grumblings to the contrary, Hamish had been right in his assessment that a holiday abroad was a great idea.

Ronnie had never been to a different country before, her family too poor to afford it, to her shame. She didn’t like to talk about it, but the fact that two of her best friends had been to different countries reminded her only too easily of that fact.

Mum had been quite happy for Heracles’s parents to take her and Ginny with them to the south of France. Fred and George were apparently too busy to be able to make the trip, for which Ronnie suspected her mum was secretly thankful; they had not worked hard in the past year. Charlie and Bill were occupied as well, unable to take time off work, like their father. Ronnie grinned at the thought of Priscilla working all summer in the Ministry, cooped up in an office, writing stuffy reports.

No, all in all Ronnie was glad she was here and not at home. Some of the local customs were strange, and Ronnie couldn’t understand a word of French, but she was sunbathing on a boat. So long as Ronnie wasn’t called on to communicate with the locals she would be fine.

She looked to her left, where Mr Granger was reading a book as he sat in his deckchair. Hamish lay to her right, scribbling some notes in his journal.

“What’re you writing?” she asked.

He looked up, startled. “Jus’ catchin’ up with my journal, Holly was telling me what we missed out last year.”

“You’re keeping a journal?”

“Think about it,” he smiled. “People’ll want to know what it was like growin’ up with Holly Potter. In a few years, this could be worth loads.”

She shrugged. “When you’re rich, we’ll still be friends right?”

Hamish chuckled.

“Yes, I think we should all ingratiate ourselves now,” Mrs Granger said as she came over, carrying a tray of drinks.

“Thanks, Mrs Granger,” said Holly, from the other side of Hamish, as she was passed a lemonade.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hamish nodded with his own.

A splash made Ronnie jump before she could get her own drink.

She, Holly and Hamish made their way to the other side of the boat where Ginny sat with her legs dangling over the side, giggling.

“Have you killed Cles?” Hamish asked in amusement.

Mr Granger laughed. “I should hope not - if his mother lost her glasses we’d be finished.”

“Haha, he said he wanted to see if he could touch the bottom,” Ginny managed to stifle her laughter.

Mrs Granger sighed. “He has always been prone to attempt random experiments.”

Eventually, her friend’s head bobbed to the surface, bushy hair stuck to it for once.

“Did you make it?” Ginny asked.

“Sadly, no,” Heracles responded after a few gasps of air. “I think I might need more preparation before I try again. The dive, however, was a good start.”

“Ronnie could do it,” Holly chimed in.

“What?!”

“Well, you’re taller than all of us, maybe you could do it.”

Ronnie flushed at the reminder of her height.

“There are some goggles you can all use in my bag,” Mr Granger supplied helpfully.

“Goggles?” Ronnie and Ginny said together.

“What I’m wearing, Ronnie,” Heracles explained, as he clambered up the ladder on the side of the boat. “They let you see underwater.”

Comprehension dawned on Ronnie when Mr Granger returned carrying four goggles.

“Oh right, thanks, Mr Granger,” she said, taking a pair.

She followed Holly in slipping them over her head; they were a little tight but Mrs Granger assured her this was to stop the water getting in. Throwing her towel on a bench, Ronnie rejoined her friends.

“Jus’ watch out for sharks, right?” Hamish asked jokingly.

“Right, shall I lead?” Heracles asked. The rest of them nodded.

“Yes, teach us, O great One,” Hamish said with a bow, causing them all to laugh.

Heracles shook his head before diving from the side.

“Are we supposed to follow him?” Ronnie asked.

Holly smiled. “Yes, now c’mon.”

Before Ronnie could say anything much more than an undignified squawk, Holly had grabbed her hand and jumped. Ronnie came up spluttering.

“What was that for?!” she cried as Ginny leapt into the water.

Hamish dived in gracefully.

“Quick, before Cles gets to the bottom!” Holly said, taking a deep breath and plunging into the water.

Seeing she was the last above the surface, Ronnie puffed up her chest with air before she followed Holly. Below her, Holly was kicking her legs hard, neck and neck with Hamish. Ginny was floating around a rock packed with anemones. She willed her legs into action, pulling herself downwards with great sweeps of her arms. Soon enough she was level with Heracles, and a little after that she had overtaken him.

The rough sandy bottom was mercifully clear of urchins, though Ronnie spotted a few in some of the crevices between rocks. She touched it with a grin, turning her head to see that Ginny, Hamish and Holly had returned to the surface. Heracles was ready to follow suit when she pushed off with strongly.

They came up together.

“Come on guys, we’re heading back,” Mr Granger called from the helm.

She and Heracles paddled back to the boat, where Hamish, Ginny and Holly were already tucking into the salad Mrs Granger had made that morning.

)(

Street food was definitely up there alongside Hogwarts grub and her mum’s home cooking. Ronnie made this decision as she made her way through a _“chi-chi”_ , a sort of long, French waffle. She, Ginny, Hamish, Heracles and Holly were following Mr and Mrs Granger around the market in the early evening, picking up groceries here and there.

“What about this, dear?” Mr Granger asked, pointing to a ham hanging from a butcher’s awning.

She considered it for a moment. “C’est combien?” Mrs Granger asked the butcher.

“How’s the ice cream?” Ronnie asked Heracles.

“Good,” he smiled. “How’s your chi-chi?”

“Brilliant.”

Hamish swallowed a bite from his own. “We should bring them back to Hogwarts.”

“Merlin, yes!” Ronnie agreed enthusiastically, accidentally hitting Holly in the face with her food.

“Hey,” Holly laughed. She and Ginny were eating crèpes.

“Whoops, sorry, Holly,” Ronnie said sheepishly.

“Here, who wants to carry the ham?” Mr Granger asked them.

“I’ll do it,” Heracles answered, wiping his hands on his shorts. Ronnie couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be trying to pretend it wasn’t very heavy.

She wondered why he did this, but was cut short by the sound of a group of boys by a fountain. They had come out of the market and were heading back to the apartment. The boys seemed to be moving on some sort of shoes with wheels attached.

“Roller skates,” Heracles said from her left, answering the question forming in her mind.

As they passed, a few of the boys stared at them, taking in the tourists. Ronnie saw two of them rove their eyes over Holly. Ronnie felt her ears redden slightly; it wasn’t any wonder why they were staring.

Ronnie didn’t want to admit it, but she had begun to compare herself to other girls, Holly in particular. While Ronnie had only recently started to notice some curves developing on herself, Holly was decidedly on the road to “becoming a woman”, as her mother would say. The dress she was wearing didn’t hug her figure, but Ronnie could see she was starting to fill it out. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a large t-shirt and shorts and, though it remained a conservative choice, it remained in her view a bold one. For one, Ronnie’s legs were too long; in fact if she was going to be frank with herself, she was too tall.

Ronnie was taller than Hamish, the tallest of the boys, and had almost a whole head over Heracles. She didn’t know why this seemed important, but boys seemed to prefer Holly’s stature. It might have had something to do with her being the Girl Who Lived; the fame and mystery surrounding Holly must be a factor. Next to her, Ronnie felt like a gangly freak cashing in on her popularity. One thing Ronnie was sure of, was that Holly’s vibrant red hair and green fringe made her stand out in a crowd, whereas Ronnie only stuck out like a sore thumb with orange hair.

“Ronnie? Ronnie?” Heracles was calling her name.

She shook her head from her thoughts. “Hmm?”

“I was asking if I could show you something when we get back to the apartment,” Heracles filled her in with a curious glance.

“Oh yeah, sure,” she replied with one last look at the boys. They had resumed their tricks around the fountain. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he answered cryptically.

If I wasn’t confused then, I am now, Ronnie thought to herself.

)(

_Hi Farsi,_

_Thanks for your letter by the way, great to hear about your summer. Heracles’s parents have taken us to France. They’re denlists or something, which means they get paid a lot, enough to hire a boat for a few days! So we’ve been going out with it, sunbathing, swimming, just relaxing. It’s nice to have Holly around and not be in danger for a change if you know what I mean._

_Anyway, they’re taking us to a beach tomorrow. Should be fun. I made a sandcastle with Hamish last year, he wants to make a whole city this time!_

_Can’t think of much else to say. How are your holidays going? How’s Adem? Have you heard from your parents yet?_

_Ronnie xx_

)(

“Is it much farther?” Ronnie panted.

Heracles chuckled in response. “Not too far now, the view makes it worth the effort.”

Ronnie grumbled.

Soon enough however, and the pair were sitting atop a rock overlooking the bay. Below them, the town ran down to the harbour where the brightly coloured fishing boats were docked. The long, low rays of the sun glinted off their prows and the sea, pink suffusing the clouds above the hills.

“And if you look to your left,” Heracles pointed out the emerging glow of lights. “One can see Marseilles.”

“Ok, maybe you were right about the view,” Ronnie muttered with a shiver.

“Here, take my jacket,” Heracles said, putting it around her shoulders.

“Why did you do that?” She asked all of a sudden, hackles raised. Why would he put a jacket over her shoulders? She had left them exposed for a reason.

“Because Holly told me in no uncertain terms that you get cold easily,” he replied.

“No I don’t,” Ronnie shot back with a glare. She could take care of herself!

“And that you get very grumpy if you’re cold,” he finished as calmly as he had begun.

Ronnie’s shoulders slumped. If she had felt silly before, she now felt downright foolish. Of course Holly would have reminded Heracles about her chill spells, he was only trying to help. There was nothing more to it than that.

“Unless you don’t want the jacket,” he was saying. “Then it’d be great to have it back before I get cold.”

“No, no it’s alright,” Ronnie said quickly, not keen to lose its warmth. “We can share it.”

Ronnie put the other side of the jacket around Heracles’s other shoulder, allowing them to huddle beneath it as they took in the view.


	2. The house on the hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a week left until my last exam, I found the time to write this; I hope you enjoy.

 

 

 

 

**Frank**

The house on the hill had sat silent for many years since the death of its last occupants. Fifty years ago, it was the home of the Riddle family, a rich and not altogether well-liked family. They had never bothered to get involved in the local village’s affairs, a state of things both sides were content to keep. The son, Tom Riddle, was even less liked than his father, who had at least the decency to not insult the villagers.

It was whispered in the pub that Riddle Jr. had once eloped with a strange girl from the Gaunt hut. This had been some time ago, the boy returning with whispers of being bewitched, a claim the Riddles strongly refuted.

In the end this was as nothing compared to the mystery which occurred some years later. One morning, the cook had entered the dining room to find all three members of the Riddle family dead on the floor. The police were quickly called, but their investigation pulled few leads, as the doctor could find nothing wrong with their health, apart from them being dead. The cook told the other villagers that their faces were contorted into grimaces of fear, sparking another flurry of discussion, but this was dismissed by the authorities.

One person who could have been the killer was their gardener, Frank Bryce. Like hunting dogs let off the leash, the villagers leaped at the man.

“Always said ‘e ‘ad a funny look, so I did,” said the local gossip.

“Never liked ‘em much, did ‘e?” said the shop owner.

“There’s jus’ somethin’ about him,” said the barman.

Despite the villagers’ assurance of his guilt, and extensive questioning from the police, Frank was released without charges. This only prompted further suspicion from the village, which proceeded to shun him, more so when he returned to his hut in the Riddles’ garden.

For his part, Frank cared little for their whispers, preferring instead to tend the Riddles’ garden. He told the police that the real killer was probably a boy he had seen the night before, but no one had ever seen him before or since, and the police were thus unable to question him.

In the meantime, someone had bought the house and its grounds, though the man from the City never visited, opting for sunnier Florida over the dreary place. This suited Frank fine, as his old joints made tending to the garden untenable. In fact, he had all but abandoned the rest of the garden to the weeds, retreating to his small vegetable plots by his hut.

It was getting late, at  close to eleven o’clock, and Frank was boiling the kettle to make himself a hot water bottle. The arthritis in his knees was particularly bad this night, enough to wake him from sleep. However, tonight would be different from usual.

Frank looked up to see light coming from an upper storey window.

“Bloody kids,” he sighed to himself.

It had started years ago, teenagers from the village going up to the old Riddle house to provoke “crazy old Frank”. He would chase them from the grounds, waving his stick comically over his head and wishing death on them. Sometimes a few might try to enter the house itself, though most never even got close enough before he saw them.

This time, however, it appeared they had lit a fire in one of the bedrooms. Heaving himself from his stool, Frank moved the kettle off the fire before taking his stick and making his way to the door. He grabbed his torch on the way out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The path from his hut to the house was overgrown, but this did not slow Frank, who reached the back door in minutes. Slowly and delicately, he entered the pantry, taking care not to slam the door behind him. After much creeping, he arrived at the foot of the stairs. Frank ascended the stairs, gently so as not to disturb the youths. A sliver of light emerged from the room, leading him to the landing and a left turn to the master bedroom.

He stopped before the door, which was slightly ajar, listening to the voices within.

A high, cold voice spoke. “Show me again…yes, it is getting clearer now.”

“It is, my lord,” a second voice said, this one sounding tremulous and fearful.

“Wormtail, do not forget to milk Nagini again tonight, for I shall the need the strength,” the first voice commanded.

“Yes, my lord.”

“And, Wormtail, I must congratulate you.”

“My lord?”

“It must have taken a great leap for your small mind to think it a good idea to kidnap Bertha Jorkins.”

“I simply did not want her to tell the Ministry what she saw,” said the woman. Frank could see her stooped in front of one of the armchairs through the crack of light. Strangely, she reminded him of a rat, her nose slightly upturned and pointed ears quivering. “And she did tell us useful information, as my lord has said.”

The person in the armchair remained out of Frank’s view. “Yes, quite. What is on your mind, Wormtail? Lord Voldemort knows his servants have thoughts.”

Frank was sure these could not be their real names. They had to be speaking code. One thing was sure: it was not children that had broken into the house.

“Well-I….I only wondered why my lord does not wish to use another, surely-Wormtail could easily find another without the risk of getting Holly Potter.”

“Fool! Have you heard nothing that I have said?” The voice held a note of anger, one that clearly frightened Wormtail, for she flinched visibly. “Potter is essential if the plan is to work. Once my agent is in place it will only be a matter of time before the girl is here.”

Frank didn’t like the sound of that. Whoever this Holly Potter was, she was in danger.

“We cannot act until after the Quidditch World Cup in any case, for time being there are too many Aurors and Ministry officials about,” said Lord Voldemort. “The Muggles will be suspicious enough as it is.”

Frank was sure this was code, quite what “Quidditch”, “Aurors” and “Muggles” meant he wasn’t sure, but he knew “Ministry” was another way of saying the government. His mind raced, perhaps these were terrorists trying to overthrow the government. He could understand their reasons, even today he could never quite believe what the papers said had happened at Orgreave. But the time to show one’s displeasure for the Tories was at the ballot box.

His train of thought was stopped by the sound of something large and heavy, sliding across the wooden boards. Whatever it was, it brushed against his shoe, prompting Frank to look down and gasp at the size of the enormous snake as it slithered into the room.

“Ah, Nagini,” Lord Voldemort seemed to croon as its head rested on the armchair’s arm.

Frank blinked at the sound of hissing and spitting that followed.

“Nagini tells me that the Muggle gardener is listening outside the door. Wormtail, why don’t you show our guest a proper welcome?”

Frank was rooted to the spot, he tried to move away from the door and back down the stairs, but his legs refused to obey him. It was too late, for Wormtail had opened the door, spilling firelight onto Frank’s white face.

“Well Muggle, what is it you look for?” Lord Voldemort’s voice drifted to him, almost toyingly.

He struggled to find his voice. “I-I m-might not know much, but I know I’ve heard enough to interest the police. You’ve done murder and you’re planning more!”

“Why Wormtail, isn’t the Muggle clever? I’m almost tempted to recruit him.”

“He is my lord.”

“My lord?” Frank’s courage was returning. “Well I don’t think much of you my lord, I fought in the war you know? Why don’t you face me like a man?”

Lord Voldemort seemed to chuckle, a dry wheezing sound that ended with a cough.

“Why not? Wormtail, turn me so that I may indulge the fool. You should know Muggle that I am no man, I am so much more.”

Wormtail complied, turning the chair so that the thing sitting in it could see Frank.

He let out a scream.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a flash of green light and the sound of something vast, rushing forwards at unthinkable speed, and Frank Bryce’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor with a thud.

Far away, Holly Potter awoke with a start.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Hamish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and George lose things of value. Ronnie and the gang encounter a friend and a surprising twist comes during the final.

**Hamish**

Hamish groaned at the alarm clock, wishing there was a charm that might make it bearable. From across the room, Fred and George groaned in unison as Heracles stumbled onto two feet, his hair dishevelled.

“Mornings should be made illegal,” George muttered croakily.

“What cruel god allowed this?” Fred croaked in a mutter.

Breakfast was a silent affair, broken by the occasional cough and low murmur asking for the butter. Holly looked decidedly the worse for wear: heavy bags sat under her eyes, and she stared blankly ahead for much of the meal.

“Right, we ought to get going soon,” said Mr Weasley, glancing at his watch. “The portkey’s due to leave in half an hour.”

“I’ll get our bags,” Hamish told Heracles, making his way back up to the twins’ room.

The pair were whispering to each other when Hamish entered, and whipped around as the door closed with a click.

“I’m not yer mother,” he chuckled. “What’re ye doin’?”

They glanced at each other, seeming to come to some kind of decision as Fred turned to him.

“Well, you know how we had to hide a load of things before you came?” Hamish nodded. “George and I want to open a joke shop.”

Hamish picked up his and Heracles’s bags. “I can picture it, ye’d be perfect for that sort of job.”

“Thanks Hamish, but unfortunately Mum doesn’t agree. She found our catalogue,” George said grimly. “So now we have to be extra careful.”

“We reckon she might try a sweep of the room when we’re gone,” said Fred.

“So we’ve shrunk some of our finished products and are taking them with us.”

“Clever,” said Hamish. “Let’s hope it works.”

Indeed, their plan worked very well, that is until an assortment of brightly coloured sweets tumbled from Fred’s pocket as he brushed past a chair. For a moment the room stood still, Mr and Mrs Weasley engaging in a swift non-verbal conversation.

“Right, empty your pockets, boys,” Mrs Weasley commanded.

Slowly, reluctantly, the twins pulled out their finished products, making a show of placing them on the table.

“Well, I guess you got us this time, mum,” George muttered.

“Not so fast,” she exclaimed. “I know you boys better than you think. _Accio!”_

A handful of toys burst from the lining of Fred’s jacket, leaving his face horror-struck.

_“Accio, accio, accio!”_ Mrs Weasley cried, products shooting from every possible nook and pocket the twins had sewn into their clothes. George looked particularly pained as a bunch of small boxes were ripped from inside his trousers. “I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible as to take those dangerous things outside the house!”

“Well, sometimes offspring have their own hopes and dreams, mum. Maybe someday you’ll understand that,” George fumed, before storming out of the house after Fred.

Hamish glanced at his friends and Ginny. Their departure suddenly felt very awkward.

“The rest of you, stay safe,” said a flustered Mrs Weasley, giving them each a short hug. “Keep an eye on them will you Arthur?”

“Don’t worry Molly, they’ll come around,” he replied. “Off we go team!”

Fred and George were already quite a way ahead when they left the garden, marching grimly into the woods. Hamish grimaced as he joined Ronnie and Holly., He could only hope the twins would be more cheerful later. They fell into step beside one another, barely more than a grunt passing between them.

In spite of the earlier drama, no one was particularly talkative, sleep still percolating their minds. Mr Weasley walked with them, Heracles and Ginny on his other side.

“We should aim to reach the Portkey in the next ten minutes,” he said to them.

“Is anyone else coming, Dad?” Ginny asked.

“Just Amos and his son Cedric,” he replied. “You’ll probably recognise him, Holly, he’s the Hufflepuff quidditch captain.”

Ronnie bristled slightly. She and the twins had not gotten over Gryffindor’s loss to Hufflepuff last year, despite Diggory’s pleas for a rematch.

“What about Luna and her dad?” Ronnie asked, as if to steer the conversation away from that game.

“They couldn’t afford it, I’m afraid,” Mr Weasley sighed. “It’s only thanks to Perkins that we’re going at all.”

“Luna?” Holly asked. “As in Luna Lovegood?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

Holly hesitated. “I might have bumped into her last year. She was… odd.”

“Quite, I imagine,” Mr Weasley chuckled. “Well if you’ve met her then I daresay you have some idea of what her family is like.”

“Loony,” said Ronnie quietly.

“Well I wouldn’t put it in quite those terms, Ronnie,” Mr Weasley mused. “But the Lovegoods are undoubtedly unorthodox.”

“Arthur!” Their conversation was interrupted by a jovial cry up ahead. A short and stout man waved at Mr Weasley. Beside him stood a tall and rather handsome boy, Cedric Diggory. “We thought you weren’t coming.”

“Amos! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As they approached, Hamish got a proper look at the pair. Amos was short, stout and sported a formidable pair of muttonchops, whilst Cedric could not have looked more different in his yellow t-shirt and cut jean shorts, the epitome of cool. Fair haired, with high cheekbones and a firm jawline, Cedric was juxtaposed by his father’s ruddy cheeks and lank brown hair.

“Everyone, this is Amos Diggory, he works with me at the Ministry,” Mr Weasley introduced. “And this must be your boy Cedric?”

“Indeed, though I must say this doesn’t look like your usual lot, Arthur. Has Molly been busy since the last time we met?” Amos replied, the jest appearing not to sit comfortably with Mr Weasley.

“No, they’re not all mine,” he answered before turning to call behind them. “Fred, George, come on boys!”

Fred and George made their way up the track to join the group.

“Amos, these are my children, Fred and George,” the twins nodded sullenly. “Ginny,” who smiled. “And Ronnie,” Ronnie’s ears reddened under Cedric’s gaze. “And these are Ronnie’s friends, Heracles, Hamish and Holly.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Amos breathed. Hamish half-expected him to exclaim his wonder at meeting the Girl Who Lived, so the words that followed surprised him. “Holly Potter? The girl Cedric beat at quidditch last year?!”

“Dad, you know it was only because of the Dementors. If it had been in a straight game she would have beaten me,” Cedric said bashfully.

“Haha, that’s my Ced,” Amos said, ribbing his son’s side. “Always modest; that’ll be one for the kids, I told him. Still, I think Miss Potter and I know that only the best Seekers win, eh?”

Hamish glanced at Holly at this, and saw she was biting her lip.

“Right, well, we’d best crack on,” Mr Weasley said after a moment of silence.

“The portkey’s at the top of Stoatshead Hill,” Amos announced, leading the way.

“Sorry,” Cedric mouthed over his shoulder at the group.

Fred, George and Ronnie blatantly ignored this, as Gryffindor’s defeat was obviously a sore point among them. Hamish, Ginny and Heracles nodded their understanding. Holly blushed.

The trees thinned slightly as they began the steady climb up the hill. Being used to the mountains back home, Hamish had little trouble. The others, however, were doing convincing impressions of marathon runners. When they eventually reached the top, Heracles and Ronnie threw themselves onto the ground like beached whales.

“Now, where is it?” Mr Weasley thought aloud.

“What are we looking for?” Holly asked.

“The portkey,” Hamish replied, spinning in a circle to see if they had missed it. “They’re normally enchanted everyday objects.”

“Things Muggles overlook,” Ginny added.

It took a moment before Cedric picked up an old boot. “Looks like it, dad.”

“Good job, Ced,” Amos grinned as they came over to stand by the boot that looked more like a pile of old leather and laces than any piece of footwear.

Mr Weasley glanced at his watch. “Quickly now, it’s due to go in a minute.”

Hamish touched a finger to a lace, joining the others. Holly, however, was still stood, looking at them as if they were performing some kind of quaint ritual.

“Holly, if you don’t touch the portkey it’ll leave without you,” Heracles called.

She scrambled to lay a finger on the boot before Hamish felt the familiar tug at his navel as the portkey whisked them off.

They landed with a thump, he and Fred on their backs as the others stumbled. Amos, Mr Weasley and Cedric seemed fine, however, the only obvious sign they had travelled by portkey being Cedric’s shifting from foot to foot in discomfort.

“Five thirty from Stoatshead Hill,” said a tired and dopey voice.

“Morning, Buman,” Mr Weasley greeted a wizard dressed in a kilt and poncho.

“More like good night,” the wizard replied grumpily. “I’ve been up all night doing this; my shift should have an ended an hour ago but Stephens is playing a fast one.”

“You win some, you lose some, eh,” Mr Weasley sighed sympathetically.

Buman shrugged his shoulders. “Right, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley,” his finger scrolled down his clipboard. “Ah, blue field, speak to Mr Richards. Diggory, you’re in the yellow field, you’ll want Mrs Kirkwood.”

“See you lot at the game, then,” Amos waved as he and Cedric set off.

“Not if I can help it,” Mr Weasley muttered. “Thankfully I don’t have to work with Amos usually, he’s in the Department of Magical Transport.”

“Ye don’t get on with him?”Hamish asked as they left Buman to his sleep-deprived thoughts.

“As you might have noticed, he can be quite boisterous,” Mr Weasley said snidely.

Soon enough they came to the blue field. Already a sea of tents was set up, with witches and wizards moving among them. Puffs of smoke floated upwards as some people made an early breakfast, and a gang of tired young witches and wizards walked past them.

Mr Richards was obviously the only Muggle in the field, standing dressed in normal attire behind his gate.

“Good morning,” Mr Weasley said to him as they approached.

Mr Richards eyed them up and down suspiciously. Evidently satisfied they had passed his test, he grunted a “mornin’” in reply.

“We’re booked for two tents tonight under Weasley.”

“Aye,” Mr Richards scanned his finger down his clipboard. “Says your tents’ve already been set up. That’ll be seven pounds eighty.”

“Right,” said Mr Weasley, before turning to Heracles. “Help me out here.”

After Heracles had helped Mr Weasley hand over the correct amount, the party trooped to the top of the field.

)(

With a whole day to go before the match started in the evening, Hamish, Holly, Heracles and Ronnie had been left to their own devices. Fred, George and Ginny had also left the tents. The boys had the larger tent, whilst Ginny, Holly and Ronnie had the smaller, but undeniably less smelly tent to themselves.

Once Priscilla, Bill and Charlie had arrived, Mr Weasley had deemed it fine for them to go and explore the stalls and vendors, so long as they returned with more water as he had used the last of it on tea.

Several vendors sold commemorative t-shirts, mugs and other memorabilia, and a few people were walking around with their wares. Hamish bought a t-shirt and a shamrock hat, Ronnie another hat, and Holly a shamrock bonnet and a small model of the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktoria Krum. It strutted up and down her palm, scowling.

Heracles bought them all ice creams, which they ate with gusto.

“Ronnie?” a familiar voice called.

They turned to see Farsi coming through the throng of vendors, musicians and merchandise.

“Farsi!” Ronnie squealed with joy, hurrying over to the girl and giving her a warm hug. “How are you? It’s been ages.”

Farsi laughed. “I’m fine, Ronnie, Headman Talit’s sorted everything out.” She smiled as the others joined Ronnie. “Holly, Hamish, Heracles, good to see you all.”

“Hi Farsi,” Holly greeted their friend. “What do you mean Headman Talit’s sorted everything?”

Farsi’s mood soured slightly. “Well, I say everything, but it’s not as if he can let us go home yet.”

“But isn’t the war over?” Hamish asked.

She shook her head. “That’s the point, my father’s side lost. The winners have called us enemies of the state.” Farsi hung her head. “Now none of us can go back, not even children like Adem whose family had no part in the war. Headman Talit believes they’ll use us.”

“It would match the reports coming from the country about the Red Hand using child soldiers,” Heracles said.

“Wow, do you think they might come for you?” Ronnie asked worriedly.

“If they did they’d have to find an Unplottable castle somewhere in Wales,” she replied.

“It must suck not to be able to go home,” Holly said consolingly “Do you know where your father is now?”

“No, the last I heard was that he’d gone into hiding,” Her bottom lip trembled slightly. “But I know Fa will be fine, he knows what he’s doing. And besides, I need to be strong for Adem.”

Ronnie embraced her again. “You can always come and visit us if you have time and need a break.”

“Ha, I wouldn’t worry about that. You’ll be seeing plenty of me this year.”

“What do ye mean?” Hamish asked.

“I’ve already said too much,” Farsi answered cryptically. “You’ll see soon enough. I should go.”

“Right, that was a wee bit weird,” he said, after Farsi was lost to the crowd.

“I wonder what she meant by seeing plenty of her this year,” Heracles said curiously.

“We’ll find out this year, I reckon. C’mon, we still need to get the water.” Ronnie ended the debate with her usual finesse.

)(

Hamish was in awe as he looked around the stadium. Sitting at the end of the row in the top box, he, Holly and Heracles were with the Weasleys. Heracles pointed to a pair of ears belonging to a house elf.

“Dobby?” Holly asked incredulously.

The elf turned around in its seat shakily. “This is not Dobby miss, this one’s name is Winky.”

“Hello, Winky,” Heracles said kindly. “What are you doing up here?”

“Winky is keeping master’s seat warm.”

“Who is your master, Winky?” Hamish asked.

“Master is Mr Crouch.”

Heracles’s objections to the elf being forced to sit high above the ground, which appeared to terrify her, were cut short by none other than the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and his Irish and Bulgarian counterparts. Ludo Bagman and several others, along with none other than Lucius and Dracia Malfoy joined them.

“Minister,” Mr Weasley greeted him.

Fudge looked surprised. “Oh hello, Arthur, good to see you. I wondered who won the prize in the employee lottery.” He turned to his counterparts. “This is Caspian Fulchevy, the Bulgarian Minister, and his team, and Colin Ruirde, and his Irish team. Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and his children and their friends. He won the prize draw in the employee lottery.”

The Bulgarian Minister looked perplexed, as if he didn’t understand what Fudge was saying.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Fudge muttered. “My Bulgarian counterpart can’t speak English, it’s a good thing he has an interpreter or we’d never get anything done.” As he told them this, a man whispered into Fulchevy’s ear, prompting a nod of comprehension.

“Hello again, Arthur,” Ludo Bagman cut across the exchange, prompting the Ministerial retinue to take their seats. “I’ll be commentating this match, so I hope you’re not tired of my voice already.”

“Not yet, Ludo, though you’re always welcome to try,” Mr Weasley replied.

“Right, I’d best get to my post,” he said, bouncing to the commentator’s box.

Within moments, his voice was booming across the stadium.

“Witches and wizards, welcome to the four hundred and twenty second Quidditch World Cup!” Cheers met this. “Give a hand to the teams’ mascots!”

Hamish looked down over the railing, glad they had the front row of seats. On the grassy pitch, a troupe of women with silver hair had assembled in the centre. He put his binoculars to his eyes.

“Veela,” Mr Weasley said. “Boys, now would be a good time to cover your ears.”

Before Hamish could ask why, however, the Veela started dancing. They really were beautiful; it was only now that Hamish realised this. The way their hair shimmered in the lights of the stadium was magnetic. He felt the urge to do something really impressive, to show them how cool he was. Perhaps he could jump onto the pitch, which would be cool.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his. It took Hamish a moment to understand what had happened. He was stood up, one leg reaching over the railing. Holly’s hand was on his and she was giving him a very strange look. Glancing around, Hamish could see Heracles was also stood with a determined expression on his face, Ronnie tugging at his arm. Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie had their fingers in their ears; the twins appeared to be laughing at his and Heracles’s actions. Priscilla looked very confused, and Ginny seemed to be clutching the arms of her seat very hard, her knuckles were white.

Thankfully the Veela stopped singing, and Hamish was broken from his trance.

“Didn’t ye hear them?”

“Yes, but they only sounded like average singers at best,” Holly replied, tugging him back into his seat.

“Gold!” cried Ronnie, causing them to put aside Hamish’s befuddlement to look up as a glittering flock of bright lights showered gold coins upon them.

Ronnie and the twins scrambled to collect them as they landed among them.

“I wouldn’t bother boys -  that’s leprechaun gold, it will vanish in a few moments,” Mr Weasley told them.

He was right. Despite having gathered fistfuls of coins, by the time the Irish mascots had performed their dance, Ronnie was empty-handed once more.

“And now, the Irish national team: Troy, Mullet, Conroy, Fergus, Ryan, Quigley and Lynch!” Bagman announced the arrival of the green streaks. Hamish put his Omnioculars to his eyes. Zooming in he could see the players’ names in gold on the back of their cloaks, closer still and the golden “ _Firebolt_ ” could be seen at the front of their brooms. “And the Bulgarians: Dimitrov, Ivanova, Zograf,” Three black and red players whooshed into the air from their side.  “Levski, Vulchanov, Volkov aaaannndd...Krum!” The audience exploded.

“That’s her!” shouted Ronnie excitedly.

Looking through his Omnioculars, Hamish tried to see Krum. The moving portrait being projected by her fans on the other side of the pitch was accurate. With her bent nose, she looked surly as she surveyed the pitch.

“And from the International Association of Quidditch, acclaimed Chairman Hassan Mostafa, our referee tonight.” A short, dumpy wizard walked onto the pitch past the seated leprechauns.

Accompanying him was the floating chest containing the four balls necessary to play. Mostafa pointed at it and the lid flew open, allowing the bludgers to burst free after the golden flash of the Snitch. A sharp blast of his whistle, and Mostafa took to the air.

“THEY’RE OFF!”

If it weren’t for his Omnioculars, Hamish probably would have missed the match. Each side’s Chasers were blurs as they ducked, weaved and tackled their way into scoring.

As the second half progressed, the Irish began to take the lead. The Bulgarians became more aggressive.

“Another penalty to Ireland!”

The Bulgarians were obviously disappointed, hurling abuse and the odd spell at Mostafa for awarding Ireland another chance to score, which they duly did. Even the Veela, supposedly impartial mascots, began to throw fireballs into the air, disrupting play so much Mostafa tried to force them off the pitch.

“Troy, Mullet, Conroy, Mullet again!” The Irish were at such a level of synchronisation Bagman had about as much time to shout their names as the Quaffle was passed between them. “Goal!”

“Dimitrov, Ivanov- and Ireland take possession, Conroy, Mulley, Troy!”

“Look!” Holly shouted, pointing to two streaks. Hamish strained his neck to catch sight of the two Seekers shooting downwards.

Krum was leading, Lynch following closely behind. Hamish thought she was pulling another Wronski Feint, until she careered skywards, her fist clenched around something.

“She’s got it! She’s caught the Snitch!”

“Ireland wins!” Bagman announced. “Krum catches the Snitch but Ireland are twenty points ahead!”

“Why would she do that?!” Ronnie demanded. “She knew they would lose if she caught it!”

“They would have lost anyway,” Holly said. “Krum ended it on her own terms.”

“What a game, ladies and gentlemen, certainly one for the books!”

Making their way back to the tents, Hamish yawned. Watching the match had been almost as tiring as playing in it. After bidding Holly, Ronnie, Ginny and Priscilla good night, he and Heracles climbed into their bunks. Sleep came quickly, in spite of Fred and George’s antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy is the long and short of it. I'm now working as a waiter and a lifeguard this summer, so on top of the usual summer priorities of volunteering and catching up with friends, now comes the added responsibility of two actual jobs. Wish me luck!
> 
> Hopefully I should be finishing Holly's fourth year by the time October comes around, but I won't make any promises or apologies for having to live my life in the meantime. 
> 
> Here's hoping you all have a good summer :)


	4. Heracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bump in the night turns into something much worse.

**Heracles**

He awoke with a start. At first Heracles thought it was a bad dream, until he realised the sound of screams was coming from outside the tent. Mr Weasley was already up, a jacket thrown over his pyjama top.

“Boys,” he said with an edge of fear in his voice. “It’s time to get up.”

“Hmm?” Bill murmured.

“Get up, get out,” Mr Weasley repeated more forcefully. “I’m going to wake the girls.”

That prompted everyone to scramble out of their cots. Heracles was pushing his head through a jumper when Hamish wobbled up to him, yawning and wearing nothing but a pair of blue cotton shorts and a thin t-shirt.

“C’mon guys, let’s get out,” Bill suggested, and they trooped out into the night.

Looking around, Heracles quickly saw the source of the disturbance. A group of hooded and masked figures were advancing through the camp, firing off spells at any who were close. Every now and then a tent would explode into flames as someone shot off an incendiary hex.

Mr Weasley emerged from the smaller tent, followed by Holly, Ronnie and Ginny.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Ronnie asked grumpily. “We’ve only just gone to bed.”

“That’s what’s wrong!” Mr Weasley pointed to the masked people approaching. “Fred, George, keep an eye on Ginny. Bill, Charlie, Priscilla, we’re going to help the Aurors. The rest of you make for the woods, it’ll be safe there.”

“What’s that?” Holly asked, her gaze fixed above the masked figures.

Heracles looked.

“Merlin’s beard!” Mr Weasley gasped.

“Bastards,” Hamish growled.

“That’s just sick,” Ronnie chimed in, disgust lacing her voice.

Above the figures, as if strung along lines, were Mr Richards and his family. One of the figures lifted their wand, and Mrs Richards was turned upside down, and her nightdress fell down, allowing all the world to see underneath. Their children’s arms were played with whilst Mr Richards’ pyjama bottoms were pulled off. A grotesque play of marionettes ensued, much to the delight of the figures beneath, who cackled monstrously.  

“Go!” Mr Weasley told them, pointing to the woods, before turning to lead the elder Weasleys into the fray.

“Let’s go,” Heracles said with determination. He took Ronnie’s hand as he made for the woods, Hamish and Holly in tow. The throng heading for the woods was noisy, as fear permeated the crowd. People pushed and shoved past them, throwing Heracles off-balance a few times. After a while, however, the crowd lessened, allowing them to make a straight beeline for the trees.

The air under the canopy was still, the people having dispersed towards the stadium.

“Where are Fred, George and Ginny?” Ronnie asked.

Heracles spun around, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“We must have lost them in the crowd,” Hamish suggested.

“Let’s keep going, the twins are smart enough to get to the woods,” Heracles told her.

Making their way through the bushes, the quartet came to a clearing. A huddle of people their age looked up at their approach.

“Excuse me, have you seen Mr Clayton?” a girl asked in an American drawl.

“Er, no, sorry,” Heracles replied.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Hogwarts?”

“Yeah.”

“Nevermind, c’mon guys,” she said over her shoulder, and the huddle moved off.

“Ilvermorny students,” Heracles answered Ronnie’s unspoken question.

“Where’s my wand?” Holly asked, a note of urgency creeping into her voice.

Heracles whipped round. Holly was looking around herself in a panic, her red hair clenched in one hand. The other was patting around her green jumper, as if she might find it tucked inside.

“I had it in my hand.”

“Do ye think ye might have dropped it when we were in the throng?” Hamish asked.

“I don’t know, I just remember having it and now I don’t.”

“Maybe it fell back when we came into the woods,” Ronnie suggested.

Their speculation was cut short by a man’s voice.

_“Mosmordre!”_

They all looked up, following Ronnie’s finger. In the sky above, an ethereal green skull with fangs had materialised. From its mouth swirled a serpent, twisting on itself and spitting.

“Is now a good time to panic?” Hamish asked wryly.

But before Heracles could say anything, figures cracked into existence around them.

“Duck!” Heracles cried, and they all crouched, letting bolts of red fly over their head.

Ronnie yelled.

“Stop! Stop! That’s my daughter!” a voice shouted.

The bolts stopped.

Hurrying forward, Mr Weasley brought them to their feet.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Arthur,” a nasal voice said snidely.

A rather short man walked towards them. His hair was slicked back with gel, allowing a plethora of grey to be seen. His moustache was equally well-groomed, matching his pinstriped grey suit under a black cloak. He had the air of a man used to being in charge and looking prim and proper, though one that is tired and overworked.

Heracles noted the stains on his shirt, the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of sweat infused with grass and tea. This had to be Barty Crouch, Priscilla’s boss, whom she had spilt tea on yesterday.

“Barty, you can’t be serious; they’re kids,” Mr Weasley objected.

Barty Crouch sniffed. “As I said, Arthur, I’ll be the judge of that.”

A rustle in the bushes caught everyone’s attention, and a Ministry wizard reached into it. An elf came out with his hand, the same elf they had talked to in the stadium: Winky.

She squealed as she was dropped at the wizard’s feet. She looked scared, terrified in fact. But the object she wringed in her hands was the real surprise.

“My wand!” Holly cried, turning all their attentions to her. “I-I dropped it w-when we were running,” she elaborated, knotting her hands into her jumper.

“I’ll handle this,” Amos Diggory’s arrogant voice cut across the clearing.

He stalked up to Winky, towering over her. “So, elf, where did you steal this wand?”

Winky quaked. “S-s-stole?”

Amos snatched the wand from her hands. _“Priori incantatem!”_

From the tip of Holly’s wand, a miniature version of the Dark Mark billowed forth. Everyone gasped -  everyone that is, except for Holly.

“What is it?” she asked in a whisper.

“It’s his mark Holly,” Ronnie answered. “You-Know-Who’s Dark Mark.”

“And you thought it’d be funny if you cast the Dark Mark, eh?” Amos continued menacingly.

“Amos, that’s quite enough,” Mr Crouch said sharply. “Winky is my elf, I will deal with any misdemeanours at my own discretion.”

“But Barty, under Section 33, any house elf found in possession of a wand falls under my Department’s jurisdiction,” Amos countered.

“It doesn’t matter what you agree,” Heracles interrupted. “Can’t you see she’s terrified, she’ll say anything to stop being scared. You’ll never get any useful information.”

“I suggest you keep your nose out of my household’s affairs, boy,” Mr Crouch told him, brushing past.

“M-m-mast-er?” Winky trembled as she looked up to Mr Crouch.

“Go home, Winky, and stay there,” he told her. “I will come home later to punish you.”

“C-can I have my wand back now?” Holly asked.

With clear reluctance, Amos handed Holly her wand.

“Come on guys, we’re going home,” said Mr Weasley.

They left the Ministry wizards and Amos’s mutters about deranged house elves behind them.

 


	5. Ronnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to a festival in a few days, so don't expect much from this fic for at least a week. In the meantime, here's a little tidbit to keep you sated and excite you.

**Ronnie**

The door to the Burrow was flung open, and Mum flew down the steps and into Dad’s arms.

“Oh Arthur, I was so worried,” she cried, before turning to the others. “Are you all alright?”

“We’re fine, Mum,” Ronnie replied, accepting the firm embrace of her mother.

“Let’s go inside, this lot deserve food,” Dad said, gesturing to the still-open door.

Mum nodded. “Yes, I’ll put something on.”

Once they were all seated around the table, Dad began explaining the night’s events.

“Death Eaters, Molly. Parading through the campsite.”

“Merlin’s beard, Arthur, it’s almost like before,” she said in a whisper.

“Quite. Then someone fired off the Dark Mark using Holly’s wand.”

A plate of bacon clattered loudly as Mum tried to process the news. Ronnie took the initiative to snaffle a rasher.

“Holly, dear!”

“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” Holly protested at the mothering. “Really, I’m in one piece.”

The fireplace coughed, bringing their attention to the head of Amos Diggory.

“Amos?” Dad inquired.

Amos spluttered out some ash. “Sorry, Arthur, this couldn’t wait. We’ve already got most of our staff dealing with the crisis at the cup. But it’s Moody, he attacked an intruder at his house. Not enough Aurors to deal with this one, Scrimgeour’s asking for you personally.”

“I see,” Dad sighed. “I’ll be over in a jiffy.”

Amos disappeared.

“Sorry Molly, duty calls,” Dad said grimly to the table.

“Will you be home in time for dinner?” Mum asked.

“I don’t think so, save some for me,” he answered.

Picking up his workbag and throwing in his cloak, Dad turned one last time at the door.

“I’ll see you all later.”

A few moments later, there was a crack and he was gone.

Ronnie’s attention was drawn to a rather frilly lace pillow. “What’s that, Mum?”

“Oh, I completely forgot, Ronnie,” Mum replied. “It’s for you.”

“You got me a pillow?”

“It’s a dress, Ronnie,” Heracles chuckled.

“A dress?” Ronnie repeated incredulously. She went over and picked it up; it was indeed a dress, albeit one that probably belonged to a hundred years ago. “What would I need this for?”

“I don’t know, Ronnie, the letter to parents said your head of house would explain,” Mum answered. “Your brothers needed dress robes too.”

“They look like Aunt Tessie’s,” Fred said, referring to the lacy piles of clothes he and George were prodding with their wands.

“Smell like Aunt Tessie,” George added.

“Yes, well, I couldn’t afford new dress robes and a dress,” Mum said grumpily. “I didn’t get anything for you, Holly, I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”

“That’s ok, Mrs Weasley,” Holly smiled.

Ronnie sulked. How come Holly got to choose her dress when she was stuck with a giant doily?

Hamish was very amused by her expression, and struggled to hide his snorts. Ronnie hit him.

“Ow, there’s no need to be violent, Ronnie,” he cried in mock hurt.

)(

_Hi Farsi,_

_How are you? We’re ok, just a bit shaken after what happened. Would you believe it if I told you someone stole Holly’s wand? She’s ok, but Holly’s gonna keep a closer eye on her things now._

_We haven’t heard anything about foreigners who went to see the match, so reply as soon as you can._

_Best wishes,_

_Ronnie_

She tucked her quill and inkwell into her bag.

“Can I borrow Hedwig, Holly?” Ronnie asked her friend.

“I’d say yes but I’ve just sent a letter to Sirius,” Holly replied ruefully.

“Never mind, I’ll go ask the twins,” she said.

The Hogwarts Express rattled as she left Holly, Hamish and Heracles in the carriage. Ronnie dodged around the food cart as it come along, before she came to Fred and George’s compartment. They were laughing at one of the twins’ joke when she pulled open the door. Lee, and two others she didn’t recognise looked up.

“Well, if it isn’t wee Ronnie,” said George.

“What can we do for you, sis?” said Fred.

“Can I borrow Errol?”

“Errol’s gone, sis,” Fred replied.

“Need to send a letter to your secret lover?” George asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Very funny,” Ronnie’s ear reddened slightly. “It’s a letter for Farsi who isn’t my “secret lover”.”

“You’ll just have to wait til we get to school, Ronniekins, like everyone else,” Fred told her.

“Now run along, we’ve jokes to tell and secrets to divulge to mature ears,” George said winking.

Ronnie huffed, before slamming shut the compartment door. Why couldn’t they take her seriously? All they cared about was looking good and making other people laugh.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts she went straight past her own compartment, not noticing until she ran into something. That something turned around, revealing itself to be Ernie MacMillan.

“Oh, er, hello, Ronnie,” he said in surprise.

“Hi Ernie,” she replied. “I must’ve missed my compartment.”

“That’s alright, shall I escort you back?”

Ronnie shook her head. “It’s fine, it’s not far or anything.”

“Oh, ok then.” It looked as if he was blushing slightly. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Sure, bye Ernie,” Ronnie said, as she turned to go back to her compartment.  

The rest of the journey was fairly uneventful. Ronnie was thankful Holly had kept her some sweets.

)(

The Sorting Ceremony had given Gryffindor eight more students. Dumbledore rose to give his customary speech before the feast.

“Good evening, and welcome to our new pupils, and welcome back to our old hands,” he began, his eyes twinkling merrily. “I have a few of the usual announcements: the Forbidden Forest is so named for a reason,” he seemed to eye Ronnie and her friends as he said this. “Curfew is still between the hours of eight and six, and the list of banned items now stretches to an impressive six hundred and ninety-two objects, so please show your appreciation of Mr Filch’s hard work by giving it a read and not possessing anything on it.

“On another note, Professor Alastor Moody has kindly stepped in to take this year’s role in teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Professor Dumbledore gestured to a man sat at the table. His face was scarred, and he was missing half his nose. What drew Ronnie’s attention, however, was the electric blue eye replacing his left eye, which whizzed around, fixing itself on several people before moving to stare at something else.

“Finally, Hogwarts will be hosting the legendary Triwizard Tournament this year.” This drew whispers across the hall. “As a result, we will be playing host to groups from the other competing schools. While they are here, I expect you all to behave sensibly and to show them all the courtesy and respect befitting guests. Further details of the tournament will be divulged by Mr Barty Crouch of the Department for International Magical Cooperation when our guests arrive. For now, I suggest you all tuck in to this most excellent feast.”

The chatter during the feast seemed to be focused on the tournament and the arrival of guests, but Heracles chose a different topic.

“I wonder why he chose Alastor Moody,” he mused.

“Dunno, he’s supposed to be barmy these days,” Ronnie replied through a mouthful of potatoes. “Brilliant though, used to be an Auror.”

“He fought in the last war, I think,” Hamish added.

“Maybe he’s trying to prepare us for something,” Heracles thought.

Ronnie glanced at Holly, who was deep in thought.

“Hmm?” she said after a moment when it became clear that the conversation had died. “I dunno, if you say he’s an ex-Auror maybe he’ll be competent like last year.”

“Or that,” Hamish chuckled. “Maybe Dumbledore’s keen for us to have a teacher who knows what they’re teaching.”


	6. Hamish

**Hamish**

Professor Moody’s competence as a teacher was noticed the minute they stepped into his classroom the next day. He stood at the front of the class, the blackboard having his name scrawled across it.

“Sit,” he barked. Hamish looked at Heracles as he sat next to him, feeling the change of pace already. “Professor Dumbledore has seen fit to appoint me, Alastor Moody, ex-Auror and Ministry malcontent, as your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, why is it important to study the Dark Arts?”

Heracles’s hand shot up.

“Granger.”

“Because they keep changing, professor.”

“Exactly, ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Moody grunted. “Tactics change, and if you want to stay ahead of the game, you have to know what you’re up against. This requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

They all jumped in their seats, a squeak escaping from Malfoy. She was blushing furiously when Hamish chanced a glance backwards.

“Now, where did you get up to last year?”

“We were doing dark creatures, sir,” Heracles answered. “Red Caps, Hinkypunks and the like.”

“Good to see Lupin covered it, never liked doing it myself,” he muttered. “But you’re all behind on curses.”

“What do you mean? Professor Lupin was a great teacher,” asked Seamus indignantly.

“I’m not casting assertions on his ability, Mr Finnegan,” Professor Moody growled. “But you need to know your curses. Who can tell me something about the Unforgivables?”

Heracles swooped in and answered. “They are the most illegal form of dark magic as their casting requires the intent to cause serious harm and, if caught, can result in life imprisonment.”

“Excellent,” Moody said appreciatively. “Now, the Ministry doesn’t want you to know about these, but I say different.” His electric blue eye fixed itself on each of them in turn. “We’re going to be prepared when we finish this year, prepared, ready, and finding better places to stick our gum, Miss Patil.”

Parvati hung her head at being caught, before standing up and going to put her gum in the bin by Professor Moody’s desk. “Sorry, professor.”

“Now who can name the Unforgivable curses?”

Ronnie’s hand tentatively crept upwards. “W-well there’s the Imperius.”

“You must be one of Arthur’s, yes?” Ronnie nodded. “Nasty one, so it is, can make someone do whatever you want,” Professor Moody, picked up a small mouse from out of a basket on his desk. “For example: _Imperio!”_

The mouse squeaked softly, as if reacting to Professor Moody’s wand.

“Now I want this mouse to go and fetch me a quill,” he said, placing it down. The mouse scurried off to the side of his desk, picked up a quill in its mouth and hurried back to his waiting palm. He picked it and the quill up and placed them back in the basket. _“Finite!_ You get the general idea. At the end of the last war, scores of wizards claimed to have been under the influence of the Imperius. The hard part was finding the liars among them. Another.”

This time it was Neville that answered. “The Cruciatus.”

Professor Moody sighed. “A particularly nasty curse, it sends painful jolts through all the nerves. Used to torture, I won’t be showing it in the class to you, pictures will be enough. Besides, it’s not hard to guess what it is when it’s used on you.”

Neville seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Who can tell me the last curse?” Professor Moody asked. “No? I’ll show you.”

He took out the mouse once again. It settled in his palm contentedly.

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ There was a flash of green, and the sound of something vast like a train coming, rushing past. The mouse lay dead in his palm. “The killing curse,” he said, as he clunked forward. “Only one person has survived it, and she’s sitting in front of me.” He looked down at Holly, mouse in hand.

Hamish could see Holly couldn’t bear to look up. She was studiously fixated on her desk.

)(

Hamish was getting started on the week’s Transfiguration homework, enjoying the quiet of the common room. Fred and George had drawn their usual crowd to the quad to show some of the things they had been working on over the summer. Most of the younger Gryffindors were watching, and the older Gryffindors were either in the library or in the quad themselves.

Apart from the crackle of the fire, all that could be heard was the scratching of his quill, and Ronnie and Holly’s odd whisper as they tried to work out what needed to be said before they would invariably ask Heracles to copy his work.

“I’ve started a club,” said Heracles, startling Hamish, who leapt a foot out of his chair, landing with a crash on the floor. “Sorry,” Heracles apologised as Hamish clambered back to his feet.

Ronnie snorted.

“A club for what?” Hamish asked.

“S.P.E.W.,” Heracles said clearly. “The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

“Spew?” Holly seemed amused as she ambled up to the box Heracles had placed on the table on Hamish’s work.

“S.P.E.W.,” Heracles repeated firmly, as if keen to press the point. “You saw how Mr Crouch and Amos treated Winky, and Holly, you know how Dobby was treated by the Malfoys. Well, this club is aimed at helping house elves get a better deal.”

“Sure,” said Ronnie.

“What?” Heracles asked, seemingly shocked by her apparent agreement.

“I said sure,” Ronnie said again. “I agree with you that house elves have a rough deal. If we’re gonna change that we have to start with something.”

“Right, well I was thinking- hoping really, that you would be onboard to assume some executive positions,” Heracles told them. “I’m obviously president, Holly you could be treasurer and Hamish could be our chairperson to keep us impartial.”

“And what about me?” Ronnie asked, tapping her foot.

“I thought it would be obvious,” Heracles chuckled. “You should be vice-president.”

“Oh,” Ronnie exclaimed, surprise and delight written on her face.

“Would you all mind taking a little badge?” Heracles asked, opening the box to reveal hundreds of small yellow badges with S.P.E.W. written across them.

“Always happy for free things, Cles,” Hamish said, taking on and pinning it to his jumper.

“How many members are there?” Holly asked, doing the same.

“Just us so far,” Heracles replied. “But I’m starting a recruitment drive, to get people aware of the issues. Meanwhile, I’m gonna practice knitting.”

“Knitting?” Ronnie asked.

“Yes, did you know Hogwarts employs house elves? To cook our food and clean up our mess,” he explained.

Hamish was about to tell Heracles that the Hogwarts house elves were probably well cared for and wouldn’t relish the thought of being freed from employment, but the zeal in his friend’s eyes was enough to dissuade him.

The excitement worn down, Holly and Ronnie went back to where they were discussing the Transfiguration. Hamish picked up his chair and, once Heracles had removed the box, continued his essay. Heracles sat down on the sofa in front of the fire and took out a small booklet, needles, and a ball of wool.

)(

For some peculiar reason Hamish couldn’t fathom, Professor Moody had decided that they should all know how to fight off the Imperius Curse in the first month. The results were less than spectacular: Neville had been made to perform ballet, Dean Thomas had been revealed as a great singer, Heracles denied ever painting his nails, and Dracia Malfoy was forced to burp the alphabet. Hamish and Ronnie were glad their names were at the bottom of the list, as they felt they had some time to prepare themselves.

Soon enough it was Holly’s turn.

“Potter, it’s your turn,” Professor Moody told her, gesturing Holly to the front.

Reluctantly, Holly followed his finger. She looked nervous, patting her hands on her trousers. That changed the minute Professor Moody put her under the curse.

Holly’s face slackened, her hands went limp and a soft smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

“Notice how her eyes have changed,” Professor Moody told them gruffly. “If nothing else, that should give away if a person’s under the Imperius.”

Hamish looked, the pupils had dilated, and it looked as if they were glazed over. Holly’s eyes seemed to lack the vibrancy they usually had.

“Now I am going to ask Holly to brush her hair,” Moody told them.

Holly leapt into action, grabbing a brush and bringing it through her hair.

“Jump on the table and dance like a baboon,” Professor Moody ordered.

Holly started to jump, her knees bent. Then she froze, she seemed torn, part of her wanted to follow Professor Moody’s orders, the other half was trying to fight the curse.

Hamish found himself whispering “Fight it,” under his breath, willing Holly to break free.

Holly remained in this position for some time, knees bent but unwilling to jump. Her breathing was coming hard.

 _“Finite!”_ Professor Moody said with satisfaction. Holly let out a strangled yell, falling backwards. “Well done Potter, you fought it. You didn’t shake it off, but you put up a hell of a fight. Class dismissed, and no homework either. I’ll be testing the rest of you in our next class.”

They filed out, excitedly talking about what Holly had done.

“Well done, Holly,” Seamus told her as he passed with Dean.

Neville smiled as he followed them. “Cracking job, Holly.”

“Thanks, Neville,” Holly grinned.

“Really good in there, Holly,” Lance Brown told her.

“You’d think I’d done something amazing,” she said to them.

“Like fight off the Imperius Curse?” Hamish laughed.

“You know what I mean,” Holly snorted.

He would have had a retort, were it not for walking into someone as they turned the corner.

“Sorry,” Hamish said reflexively.

“No, my bad,” a boy answered.

Hamish look up, and a rather handsome Ravenclaw looked back.

“H-Hamish,” he said, extending a hand.

“Iolo,” the boy replied, shaking it.

“I-I should catch up with m-my friends,” said Hamish.

Iolo glanced over his should at their retreating backs. “You should,” he said, casting his warm amber eyes on Hamish. “I’ll see you around then, Hamish.”

“Yeah, see you later,” he replied, letting go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Hamish nodded a farewell before tugging on his bag strap and hurrying up to his friends who had realised he’d stopped.


	7. Holly

**Holly**

Classes continued, Professor McGonagall carried on giving them hard work, Professor Trelawney made predictions of Holly’s demise, and Professor Snape’s snide comments riled Holly.

In late October, the whole school trooped down to the castle entrance for the arrival of the guests. They had received instructions to dress as neatly as possible, Professor McGonagall impressing upon the Gryffindors the importance of looking good for visitors. Holly was borrowing some of Parvati Patil’s hairclips in an effort to hide her dyed locks, to mixed success. Professor McGonagall walked among them, fixing ties and putting the particularly messy at the back.

“Are you sure you tried, Mr Granger?”

“Yes, professor,” Heracles replied. “I tried as best I could,” he said, patting down his hair.

“Well, it’ll have to do, just be conscious of those behind you,” Professor McGonagall sighed. “Now, Potter, let’s have a look at you.”

Holly turned so that she could see. Professor McGonagall seemed to appraise her for a moment before moving onto Ronnie.

“Look!” a Hufflepuff shouted, pointing to something coming from the sky.

A carriage was being drawn through the sky by winged horses.

“Pegasi,” Heracles breathed.

The carriage landed, jumping slightly as its wheels caught on the turf. It skidded to a stop in front of the pupils to much applause, Holly realising she had joined in. The door clicked open, and several boys and girls spilled out, forming two columns as they did so. Bedecked in a light turquoise, the boys wearing sailor-like outfits and the girls in elegant dresses that stopped at the knees, they were an impressive sight. This was reinforced when a very tall woman stepped out of the carriage.

Towering over even the tallest of the boys, she had to be eight feet tall. Her brown hair was cut into a bob, and she wore a long purple coat with white fur trims. She surveyed the Hogwarts body before nodding satisfactorily.

“Ah, Madame Maxime,” Professor Dumbledore said gladly, crossing the space between them in a few strides. “Merci d’avoir venu. Bienvenu à Poudlards. Hogwarts, may I present the lovely ladies and gentlemen of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.” The boys and girls bowed and curtsied respectively.

Madam Maxime spoke, in a low but gentle voice. “Zank you Professor Dumbly-dore, eet eez good to finally meet again.”

“And you, my dear, have never looked more lovely,” Professor Dumbledore affirmed with a twinkle in his eyes. Holly glanced over to where Hagrid stood with the other teachers.He certainly appeared to agree. “Professor Sprout, please show Madam Maxime and her charges to the great hall.” Professor Sprout, wearing her best getup, stepped forward.

“Ah, Professor Dumbly-dore, mah ‘orses ‘ave travelled a long way, zey will need attending to,” Madam Maxime told him.

“Not to worry, I’m sure our gamekeeper Hagrid would be more than happy to look after them,” Professor Dumbledore gestured to Hagrid who looked surprised to have been pointed out.

“Excellent,” Madam Maxime said, allowing herself to be led by Professor Sprout towards the great hall. “So you know, Hagrid, zey only drink single malt whiskey.”

Hagrid seemed to be blushing as he led the horses away.

There was hardly time to take in the Beauxbatons group when Holly spotted the flying carpets belonging to the Anatolian Institute of Magic. Before long, Headman Talit was embracing Professor Dumbledore once more, and Holly caught Farsi waving at them from among the blue cloaks.

“It’s Farsi!” Ronnie said excitedly, returning the greeting.

They four of them grinned as she and Adem passed on their way to the great hall. Farsi seemed to mouth something at them.

“She said she’d save us a seat,” said Heracles from behind Holly. They all looked at him, perplexed. “What? I was bored so I learnt how to lipread over summer.”

“Cles, can you just stop being amazing for a bit?” Ronnie asked.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, a dusting of pink colouring his cheeks.

A throaty roar interrupted them, as a large red limousine Cadillac pulled up in front of the Hogwarts pupils and teachers, a swirling blue portal closing swiftly behind it. A large, barrel-chested man sporting a large moustache stood in the driver’s seat. His long coat was a worn red leather that flapped as he dismounted. The rear doors opened, and a motley bunch of young witches and wizards spilled forth. They sported various kinds of clothes; some wore cloaks, but most had jumpers and hoodies. Most had put on jeans, though Holly could see a few girls had opted for skirts.

“Albus,” the large man greeted Professor Dumbledore with a southern twang. “Sorry, Bethany couldn’t join us, so she sent me in her place.”

“Not to worry, Brendan, welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor Dumbledore replied jovially.

“Is there somewhere for the car?”

“I should think Hagrid will find a space for it,” Professor Dumbledore answered. The man gave a sharp whistle, and the Cadillac trundled off down to Hagrid’s hut. “Allow Professor Flitwick to show you to the great hall.”

The diminutive professor waved at the entrance.

“Let’s go, Ilvermorny,” the man cried, shaking Professor Flitwick’s hand as they were led into the castle.

Before the excitement had a chance to abate, a cry from the Slytherin ranks brought Holly’s attention to the lake where a galley was emerging from the depths.

It took a while for the new party to arrive, led by a man in a fur coat. His black hair was streaked with grey and pulled into a ponytail, his goatee was of the same colour. Behind him trooped witches and wizards in light brown regalia, black hats perched on their heads.

“Albus,” the man said in a thick Bulgarian accent, opening his arms as if to embrace their headmaster. Professor Dumbledore simply put out a hand, as if correcting a mistake. As the man took it, Holly thought she saw a flicker of annoyance pass over his face.

“Igor,” he greeted curtly. “Follow me and I’ll show you to the great hall.” He led the new party through the doors into the great hall.

“Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall’s voice called over the hubbub. “Into the great hall and sit at your house tables.”

The Hogwarts throng passed through the doors and into the great hall. Farsi was already sitting in their usual spot, waving them over.

“Fancy seein’ you here,” Hamish said as they sat on either side of her and Adem.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Ronnie exclaimed.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Farsi replied, referring to herself and Adem.

Before much more could be said, Professor Dumbledore called for silence.

“To our many guests, welcome to Hogwarts,” he began, eyes twinkling. “I hope that you will enjoy your stay with us this year. Tonight, Hogwarts has the pleasure of beginning to host the legendary Triwizard Tournament. I should say that the name is no more than a misnomer this time, as five schools chose to send representatives.” A quiet chuckle met this statement. “Here to explain more is Mr Crouch of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

The man who stepped forward was the same man Holly had met at the Quidditch World Cup, he seemed even more dishevelled than before.  

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore,” he said in his nasal voice. “As the tournament can be dangerous, the Ministry has deemed it necessary to impose an age limit on candidates. Only those over the age of seventeen-” But whatever else Mr Crouch had to say was lost in the roar of disapproval from Hogwarts and Ilvermorny pupils.

“Silence!” Professor Dumbledore’s voice cut across the noise the same way a knife cuts butter. Behind him, Filch was wheeling a large, tall box. “Thank you Mr Filch,” Professor Dumbledore smiled as he flicked his wand, making the box disappear. Inside was a large goblet, carved from brown stone with a silver rim inlaid with runes. Professor Dumbledore pointed his finger at the goblet, prompting flames to burst into light at its summit.

“This is the Goblet of Fire,” he said as means of introduction. Holly thought it was a very apt name. “Anyone wishing to enter the tournament need only put their name on a piece of parchment and place it within the Goblet. It will select one candidate from each of the five school:, Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, Anatolia and Durmstrang.” A hush had descended upon the great hall. “The Goblet will be in the entrance hall for any who wish to enter. As of this moment, the tournament has begun.”

Filch carried on where he had left off, pushing the Goblet of Fire between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Holly watched it as it passed.

“Eternal glory,” Ronnie’s voice broke the trance.

“What?” Holly asked.

“If someone wins the tournament they’d get bragging rights for years,” she explained.

“If she survives,” Heracles told Ronnie. “The tournament was banned for too many deaths last time.”

“Well, then this time it’ll be different,” Farsi said determinedly.

“Yeah,” Holly agreed. “Dumbledore’s here, so it’ll be fine.”

“And it’s not as if ye’ll get inexperienced champions either,” Hamish added. “With that age limit, it’ll only be the oldest and most experienced people getting selected.”

Holly was looking at Fred and George, who were engaged in furtive discussions with Lee Jordan.

“Let’s hope,” she said with a smirk.

“Ah well, might as well enjoy the food while we’re here,” Ronnie said, reaching for a tureen of chicken soup.

While they had been discussing, a feast had appeared on the tables before them to welcome the visitors.

)(

Once the guests had settled in, things returned to normal, or to as normal as possible at Hogwarts. Farsi once again joined their group outside of lessons, and Fred and George managed to turn the Beauxbatons carriage into a giant pumpkin, forcing the occupants to shelter inside the castle whilst Professor McGonagall restored it to its original state. Naturally there was no evidence of their involvement, the twins already being in detention for something else, but Holly could tell from the way they flirted among the Beauxbatons girls that they were pleased with the results.

All the while, the Goblet of Fire stood in the hallway, accepting the names of the brave, or, in Heracles’s eyes, the foolish. Holly, Ronnie, and Farsi would spend some time each day watching people place their parchments in the flames.

Finally Halloween came, and the Goblet was moved back into the great hall. The benches and tables had been replaced with wooden stands. Everyone came to see who would be chosen, filing onto the stands in their groups. Holly was stood shoulder to shoulder with Farsi and Hamish, still feeling a little grumpy she had not had time to get changed properly out of her uniform.

“Thank you all for coming this night,” Professor Dumbledore began. “From this moment, the Goblet of Fire will no longer accept candidates for the tournament. Instead, the Goblet will issue five names of people chosen to represent their school. If you are chosen, kindly come up and pass through the door beside Professor Snape.” He gestured to the impassive potions master. “But now, I relinquish the stage to the Goblet.”

The blue flames, which Holly had become so accustomed to, now changed to a pale pink and then to a vibrant yellow. A tongue of fire shot outwards, arcing through the air. Holly noticed at its end was a slightly singed piece of parchment. Professor Dumbledore caught it and allowed his eyes to scan the name.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is: Fleur Delacour.” Applause followed the pretty French witch as she made her way through the hall towards the door. Another fiery arm deposited a parchment in Professor Dumbledore’s fingers. “Anatolia’s champion is Handan Malik.” Farsi began clapping as Handan descended to the floor. Holly applauded as well; alongside Anatolia’s party, most of Gryffindor seemed to approve of the choice.

The Goblet produced Viktoriya Krum as Durmstrang’s champion.

“Merlin, Holly, it’s her!” Ronnie squealed as the girl walked through the door.

“Ilvermorny’s champion shall be Theo Gilgarry.” A boy with a purple waistcoat emerged to applause and whoops from among the American contingent.

A final spurt of flame shot out, and Professor Dumbledore snatched it from the air.

“Hogwarts’s champion is Terence Higgs.” The reception to this was mixed. The Slytherins cheered loudly, but most simply gave him perfunctory applause; Gryffindor barely clapped at all. “Excellent, we now have our five champions. Mada-”

But no sooner had Professor Dumbledore begun speaking than the Goblet shot out another yellow tongue of flame. Time seemed to slow as Holly watched it arc through the air, sparks being spat from it as its tip moved inexorably towards Professor Dumbledore’s outstretched hand.

“Holly Potter,” his voice echoed in her head.

No, she refused to believe it. Stock still, Holly felt as if she was in a dream, nothing seemed real. This was supposed to be a normal year for her, with no murderer on the loose, no basilisk in the pipes, no stone coveted by dark wizards; she had come expecting to see who would compete in the tournament, perhaps cheer on a favourite, not to be chosen herself.

“Holly,” gradually, she returned to her senses. Hamish was talking to her. “Ye have to go, Holly.”

“Come on, Holly,” Farsi urged her, landing a small push on her back.

It was enough to get her started. Holly climbed down the stands, moving around those below her until she stood on the floor. She hardly registered the faces she passed on her way to the door. Snape could only stare in shock as Holly entered the room.

The door closed behind her with finality. Inside, between the stacked rows of desks and chairs were stood the five champions. They all looked up as she approached.

“What eez eet?” Fleur asked.

“Do they need us?” Theo Gilgarry asked, stepping forward.

“Potter?”

“I-” Holly’s throat closed up. How could she tell them? They all looked so mature and experienced, whilst she was just a fourteen year old. She didn’t belong here.  

The door to the room opened, and Holly turned to be faced by the huddle comprising of Professor Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, Karkaroff, Headman Talit, Ilvermorny’s professor, Professor McGonagall, and Snape. Mr Crouch stood to the side, hand worrying through his hair.

“Holly, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?” Professor Dumbledore asked her kindly.

“N-no professor,” she replied.

“She’s lying,” Karkaroff snarled.

“Of course she eez,” Madam Maxime agreed.

“Well done, girl,” said the Ilvermorny professor. “Nice to see ole Hogwarts has got some guts after all.”

“This isn’t helpful, Alex,” Professor McGonagall scolded.

Professor Moody entered quietly. “It may be that the Goblet has been tampered with,” he suggested.

“Well, of course you vould think zat, Mad-Eye,” Karkaroff scoffed.

“Need I remind you that it was my job to think like dark wizards, Igor,” Professor Moody replied menacingly. “Or perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

The two men eyed each other, sizing each other up. Conflict was averted when Professor Dumbledore stood between them to address Mr Crouch.

“Whether or not it was tampered with is academic. The question remains as to how we should proceed. Barty, you organised the tournament more than any of us. What do you think?” he asked.

Mr Crouch seemed at a loss as he turned to them. “The Goblet has created a binding magical contract with Miss Potter. Whatever her wishes may be, the magic will compel her to compete in this tournament.”

“Erm, w-what does that mean for me?” Holly asked quietly. The word “compel” filled her with dread.

“That you will feel a compulsion to take part so great that if you are barred from doing so, there is a risk of insanity,” Mr Crouch sighed sadly.

“Albus, I thought you said you had minimised the dangers,” Professor McGonagall cried, moving to stand beside Holly. She appreciated the move - in spite of her sometimes-stern manners, it was clear Professor McGonagall would do her utmost to protect a member of her house.

“Tampering by dark magic was not included in our calculations, I am afraid, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore’s shoulders slumped. “Something I now greatly regret.”

Snape had been quiet throughout all this, but now he spoke up. “Perhaps it might be excusable to allow Potter to compete so as to ensure her mind remains intact. I’m sure, under good guidance, she will be more than capable of surviving.”

Professor McGonagall looked scandalised. “Severus, you can’t be serious.”

“Severus has a point, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore mused. “The tasks have not been designed to be life-threatening, and with preparation Miss Potter could surmount the challenge. She has endured graver threats to her life.”

“Then I vould like put forvard another candidate for Durmstrang,” Karkaroff said angrily.

“Et moi,” Madam Maxime added. “Eet eez unfair for one school to have two champions.”

“That won’t be possible,” Mr Crouch pulled himself to his full height. “Whatever magic interfered with the Goblet will likely prevent any other candidates being put forward.”

“Barty’s right. Until he has unpicked the spells, we have no idea of the consequences of such actions,” Professor Dumbledore concurred. “I know you may not like it, but we must treat Miss Potter’s participation as if she were part of another school.”

“I agree, Albus,” Headman Talit piped up, tapping his staff against the floor. “There is something more at work here that we can’t see, and these divisions among us won’t help our finding it.”

Professor Dumbledore turned back to Holly and the other champions.

“It is late, and you all look like you could do with some sleep. We will continue to discuss the arrangements later,” he said, glancing at Holly. “Off you go back to your friends.”

)(

“Our champion has entered!” Fred’s voice yelled across the common room as she entered.

“All hail the Hogwarts champion,” George laughed.

It seemed as if the whole of Gryffindor were stuffed inside to give her a hero’s welcome.

“Actually, I’m-” But whatever Holly tried to say was lost in raucous cheers.

Thankfully she spotted Hamish’s purple hoodie and Heracles’s hair. She made a beeline for the pair, finding them standing awkwardly beside their usual sofa which had been commandeered by a gaggle of first year boys. They looked up in awe as she approached.

“Hey, guys,” she said weakly.

“We don’t think ye did it,” Hamish blurted out.

“Someone put your name in and tampered with the Goblet,” Heracles explained.

“I know, Professor Moody said as much,” she told them.

“Hopefully it’s some kind of joke,” Heracles said kindly. “But knowing you, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah,” Holly rolled her eyes. “Where’s Ronnie?”

“She er, doesn’t agree with us,” Heracles admitted.

She sighed. “Great. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.”

“Good luck,” Hamish said with a rueful smile. “G’night.”

“Yeah, night,” said Heracles.

“See you guys tomorrow,” she said, leaving for the steps up to the girls’ dormitories.


	8. Hamish

**Hamish**

The first thing Hamish noticed in the morning was that Ronnie and Holly were not sitting together. From the looks they gave each other, Hamish surmised they had fallen out. Ronnie was sitting with Lance Brown and Parvati Patil, two people she normally could not stand being in the same room with longer than necessary, and shooting glares Holly’s way.

For her part, Holly sat alone, sparing Ronnie an occasional morose glance. Hamish sat opposite her with aplomb.

“I guess ye didn’t manage to convince her,” he commented.

“Nope,” she muttered angrily. “Our house seems to think I did it, and cheers me on, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw probably think I did too, and Slytherin hate me more than ever.”

“It’ll get worse before it gets better,” Heracles said as he sat beside her. “For what it’s worth, we believe you, and I’ve persuaded Fred and George to stop making a show of it.”

Holly chuckled. “Thanks, I don’t think I could do a repeat of the “Heir of Slytherin”.”

“Unfortunately, the way I hear it, Hufflepuff is supporting Terence.”

“But he’s Slytherin!” Hamish exclaimed, loud enough to disturb a few on the Ravenclaw table.

“True, but they said they’re staying loyal to the official Hogwarts champion,” Heracles explained.

This was lost on Hamish, however, as he noticed the Ravenclaw he had bumped into, Iolo Bridger, eating his toast. It took Hamish a while to realise Iolo was looking at him, his stomach simulating a belly flop. Someone came up to him and drew his attention away, forcing him to leave. Hamish’s eyes trailed aft-

“Hamish?” Holly was clicking her fingers. “We have Potions first.”

“Sorry, I musta fazed out,” Hamish said, struggling to fight down the blush creeping across his cheeks. Heracles gave him a knowing look. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Heracles answered, eyebrows waggling.

)(

They queued outside potions in their customary Gryffindor line, eyeing the Slytherins suspiciously.

“Ah, so lovely of you to join us, Potter,” said Theodore Nott in a gloating voice. “Nice to see the champion isn’t afraid of mixing with us commoners.”

The Slytherins laughed at that, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing loudly once someone had whispered an explanation to them. Hamish couldn’t help but notice two who would normally have been at the centre of this kind of confrontation. Ronnie was studiously ignoring proceedings at the back of the line, whilst Dracia Malfoy was pointedly not guffawing with her fellow Slytherins.

“Oh go away, Nott,” Holly shot back.

“Yes, why don’t you close your mouth and stop boring us,” Heracles added.

Nott was furious. “Don’t you dare talk to me, you filthy-”

“Mudblood?” Heracles asked, almost amused. “Find an actual insult or look up what incest means.”

Hamish didn’t know who shot off the first spell, but once the flashes and yells were over he was on his back, Goyle was growing mushrooms from his ears, Holly was sporting a bruise on her cheek, and Nott wiping copious amounts of guano from his robes.

The door to Snape’s classroom burst open with a bang. Snape’s eyes scanned over the scene impassively.

“One of the first rules of Hogwarts is not to engage in duels in the corridors. I trust you realise this, Potter,” Snape sneered.

“I didn’t start it!” Holly protested. “It was Nott!”

“Twenty points for fighting, and another five for talking back to a teacher, Potter,” Snape said coldly. “Don’t think you’re getting off lightly, Nott, twenty points from Slytherin for provoking Miss Potter and her friends and allowing her to goad you into combat. I expected better from my house.”

“What about Goyle, sir?” Nott asked timidly.

“And Heracles?” Holly asked.

Hamish turned to see Heracles trying to cover the lower part of his face, to no avail as two bright white teeth grew past his hands.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Mister Goyle and Mister Granger both know the way to the infirmary; you are both excused from this lesson to go there.”

Hamish started to follow after Heracles.

“And where do you think you’re going, Williams?” Snape asked him coldly.

“I was jus’ gonna explain to Madam Pomfrey what happened,” he replied.

“Their condition is explanation enough, Mister Williams,” Snape sneered. “The rest of you are to go inside and sit down.”

They trooped inside silently, shooting sympathetic glances down the hall to Heracles’s retreating back.

Things were awkward when they sat in their usual spots, the two stools next to Holly where Heracles and Ronnie habitually sat were empty. But no sooner had Snape set them to work than a young Hufflepuff boy entered asking for Holly.

“And, pray tell, what is the reason for her absence this lesson?” Snape asked menacingly.

“F-f-for the w-weighing of the w-wands, p-prof-essor,” the boy stammered.

“And this could not be done at another time, could it?”

“I-I d-don’t know, p-p-professor, P-professor D-Dumbledore t-told me to fetch Holly P-Potter.”

Snape sighed. “Very well Potter, you are excused so you may go to your TriWizard commitments,” he snapped, prompting Holly to start packing away her things. “Leave them, Potter, Mister Williams is more than capable of carrying them.”

“I’ll go to the infirmary later,” Hamish whispered to her before she left.

Holly nodded.

The lesson that followed was incredibly tense. Snape, already annoyed at the scuffle outside, was incensed by having his lesson interrupted for Holly’s sake. Hamish had to work twice as hard, both to keep Snape off his back, as well as to provide legible notes for Holly later.

As soon as it was over, Hamish rushed to the infirmary. Holly was waiting outside.

“Here,” he said, passing her her bag. “How was it?”

“Ok I guess, I’ve got a few things to tell you but Heracles should hear them too,” Holly replied, leading the way into the infirmary.

Heracles was sitting on his bed when they entered.

“Ye alrigh’, Cles?” Hamish asked.

“Much better,” he replied cheerfully.

There was something off about his smile, however, and Hamish couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Cles, are your teeth smaller?” Holly narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe a little,” he said as an aside to them as Madam Pomfrey bustled past from treating another patient. “I let her shrink them just a little beyond their original size. Mum and dad never let me use Muggle methods, but they never excluded magic to change them.”

“Clever,” Hamish snorted.

“I went to a wand weighing ceremony whilst you were gone,” Holly said abruptly.

“I see,” Heracles said slowly.

“A Rita Skeeter woman interviewed me and-”

“Rita Skeeter?” Hamish interrupted her. Holly nodded. “Be careful what ye say around her, Holly, she distorts the truth for the Prophet’s gossip column.”

“You probably look like a juicy side of steak to her,” said Heracles glumly. “Was there anything that stood out to you?”

“You mean besides her quill?”

Hamish kicked his foot against the bed, Skeeter had found a new victim. “That’s her quick-quotes quill, Holly, the key to her success.”

“Yes, well, I doubt there’s much we can do now about it,” Heracles patted Hamish’s shoulder. “Did anything else happen?”

“Yeah, Terence Higgs suggested that we should work together to complete some of the tasks,” Holly replied, evidently unsure about this.

“That’s an interesting proposition,” Heracles said dryly. “Not your usual Slytherin.”

“He isn’t the stereotype, if that’s what ye mean,” said Hamish. “My dad worked with his, he isn’t a Death Eater or anythin’. Jus’ because he’s in Slytherin doesn’t mean ye can’t work with him.”

“You’re right, Hamish, not every Slytherin need be bad. After all, Gryffindor has produced dark wizards too,” Heracles added.

“What do you mean?” Holly asked.

“We’re sayin’ ye should give it a go,” Hamish explained. “Where did he say to meet?”

“The old classroom in the south wing’s fourth floor,” Holly replied.

“Then that’s where you’ll go,” Heracles told her.

Holly still looked unsure.

“And we’ll come with ye,” Hamish smiled reassuringly.


	9. Holly

**Holly**

Holly closed the door to the Potions classroom, leaving Hamish with her bag, and began to follow Dennis Creevey.

“So er, do you think I put my name in?” she asked him tentatively, not wanting to walk in silence.

“I dunno, Colin thinks so,” he replied shrugging.

“Yeah, well, Colin thinks I can stop bullets,” she muttered under her breath, recalling the elder of the Creevey brothers, who had followed her obsessively during her second year. “Why were you asked to fetch me anyway?”

Dennis seemed to blush. “Professor Dumbledore found me outside lessons, he said that I might as well fetch you, seeing as I was trying to find out your timetable.”

“Professor Dumbledore told you where I was so you could get me,” Holly laughed. “I suppose meeting Snape was the punishment.”

Soon enough, Holly was pushing open the door to the chamber. Inside, the five other champions, Professor McGonagall, Headman Talit, Madam Maxime, Karkaroff, Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, the Ilvermorny professor and-

“Mr Ollivander?” Holly blurted, quickly clapping hands over her mouth in surprise and embarrassment.

“Ah yes, Miss Potter, it has been a while, has it not?” he asked, raising his large eyes up at her from a set of scales.

“Holly, glad you could make it,” said Ludo rapidly. “The Weighing of the Wands is an important aspect of the tournament.”

“Indeed,” added Crouch more measuredly. “Mr Ollivander has been asked to perform this job. If you wouldn’t mind joining your fellow champions, we can get this started.”

“O-ok,” she said.

Holly felt underdressed, as the other champions were wearing cloaks. Holly, who never wore her cloak indoors, was not.

“Potter,” Terence Higgs gave her a nod.

She nodded back. Realising the other champions had their wands in hand, Holly pulled hers from her sleeve. Looking at theirs, she began to polish her own wand, trying to get rid of dirt and grease. Fleur Delacour seemed to smirk as she saw Holly doing this.

“Don’t worry, Holly, so long as the wand performs well you shouldn’t worry about appearances,” Handan told her.

“Right,” Holly replied, Handan herself looked good, black hair casually thrown over her shoulder. Terence and Theo Gilgarry kept stealing glances.

“Ah, Miss Krum,” Ollivander said, bringing Holly’s attention back to the front, where Ollivander had placed Viktoria Krum’s wand on the scales. “Ten and three-quarter inches, aspen with dragon heart string core.   _Orchideous!”_ A bouquet of flowers erupted from the end of Krum’s wand. “Not one of my wands,” he added as he handed it back to her, reading the small piece of tape.

“No,” Krum replied.

“All the same, Gregorovitch does make fine wands, even I do not share his… peculiarities.”

Viktoria re-joined Karkaroff. Terence stepped up to the scales, passing his wand to Ollivander.

“Aha, one of my own creations, I believe,” he barely looked at the tape, choosing instead to flick the wand. Several smoke rings puffed around the room. He handed Terence back his wand. Handan was next. “Eleven inches, cedar with manticore tooth. Homemade, I take it?”

“Yes,” she replied.

A swish produced a white dove, which fluttered around before disappearing with a pop.

“Here you are, my dear,” Ollivander said, passing Handan her wand before turning to Theo Gilgarry. “I’ve always been interested in wands from the New World.” The wand was placed on the scales and a piece of tape was read. “Twelve inches, redwood with a thunderbird feather. Interesting choice to have a leather grip, your own decision?”

“Yeah, harder to drop it,” Gilgarry replied.

“Whatever works, I suppose,” Ollivander commented as he jabbed the wand into producing red, blue and white sparks. He returned the wand to Gilgarry.

Fleur was next, and Ollivander’s eyes widened even further than usual. “The core is hair from a veela, is that correct?”

“My grandmuzzer’s.”

Ollivander gave it a flick and ghostlights dribbled from the wand’s tip. “I take it you find it suitable,” he said, returning it to Fleur.

“Oui.”

“Miss Potter,” he seemed to brighten with excitement. “No need to read your wand, I remember it perfectly,” Holly was slightly unnerved by this statement. He seemed to take the longest in examining it however, before finally shooting a fountain of wine from the tip and announcing it was still in perfect condition.

The door to the room creaked open, prompting all heads to turn to it.

“Am I too late?” asked a woman, the strangest witch Holly had ever seen. She wore a violent lime green jacket and pencil skirt that Holly suspected were a little small for her; her blonde hair was piled in curls on her head. She sported long, green fingernails and wore a lot of makeup. In her hand was a dragonskin handbag.

Behind the woman emerged a scruffy and bored-looking man with a large camera.

“For photos? No, we still have time,” said Ludo jovially. Crouch did not seem pleased about this interruption.

“Excellent,” the woman cried. “Let’s set everyone up. As you all know, my name is Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet,” she told the champions as if they should know. “I’m here to write a piece for the paper, Dave’s here for photos.”

It seemed to take an age to take photographs. Madam Maxime eventually sat down so as not to cast too much shadow. Karkaroff gave his goatee extra twirls. Viktoria, who Holly assumed would be used to such things, tried to shuffle to the back. The photographer kept trying to centre each shot with Fleur at the forefront, but Rita Skeeter would pull Holly to stand beside the other champion each time this happened, something Holly could have lived without.

After what seemed an age, Skeeter announced that she would do the interviews.

“Starting with you, Holly,” she said, her eyes boring into Holly’s. “Is their somewhere we could do this in private?”

“There’s a spare classroom next door, Rita,” Ludo told her.

Holly was dragged away without further ado. Skeeter pulled up two chairs, sitting in one as she took out a notebook and an acid-green quill.

“Let me just test it,” she said, referring to the quill. “My name is Rita Skeeter.”

The quill picked itself up and began to write.

_Attractive blonde, Rita Skeeter, only forty-three, whose savage quill has puncture-_

“That’ll do,” she told it. Noting that Holly was staring, she told her, “don’t worry about the quill, it just lets me focus on my subject.”

“Ok,” Holly said.

“So, Holly, you’re fourteen, what made you decide to enter the tournament?”

“Er,” Holly began. “I didn’t enter my name.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Skeeter winked. “Everyone loves a bad girl Holly. Come on, imagine you’re telling my readers.”

Holly couldn’t help but notice what the quill was writing.

_Her scar is the only thing that disfigures the pretty face of young Holly Potter, eyes shining like emeralds, she sits down to give me a lowdown on the Triwizard Tournament, a dark past, and, of course, boys._

“Just ignore the quill, Holly,” Skeeter’s voice snapped her attention back to the interview. “Now, are you worried about the tasks ahead of you? Champions have died in the past.”

“Er, nervous, I guess,” Skeeter nodded approvingly. “But they say it should be a lot safer this year.”

“And naturally you’ve stared death in the face before, haven’t you?” Skeeter probed. “Do you think your past experiences made you want to enter the tournament?”

“I- I didn’t put my name in.”

_Holly gives me a sly grin. “I don’t think your readers need to concern themselves with my safety,” she says coyly._

Skeeter took a different tack. “Holly, you’re getting to that age now. Boys, any on your radar?”

Holly was taken aback. The only boy she could think of was Cedric Diggory, but he was a seventh year, and she wasn’t just about to tell this woman that.

“I dunno.”

“How are your friends, then?” Skeeter was not backing down. “When you’re not doing things for the tournament or school, who do you “hang” with.” She quoted the air heavily.

“It’s just me and my friends I guess, Hamish and Cles,” Holly replied slowly, glancing down at the notebook.

_“Oh, let me keep a few things secret, Rita,” she says flirtatiously. “Though there might be a boy or two I’m wrapping round my finger.”_

“Tell me though Holly, what do you think your parents would say if they could see you now? Do you think they’d be proud, or ashamed, that you’re purposefully putting your life in danger?”

_Tears begin to shimmer in those emerald orbs at the thought of the parents she never knew. In that moment, I realise that, in spite of her bravado, Holly is still haunted by ghosts of her past._

Holly had had enough. “I’m not haunted by ghosts of my past!”

The door banged open, causing Holly to jump in fright. Terence and the other champions were standing outside.

“Ah, Terence, how lovely of you to drop by,” Skeeter said, her voice oily with sarcasm. Glancing back, Holly couldn’t see her notebook or quill, only her hands clipping her handbag shut.

“You still haven’t interviewed us yet,” Terence replied mildly.

“Oh well I just finishing up with Holly here-”

“There isn’t any more time,” Theo cut across her. “We’ve got other things to do.”

“Well it’s a good thing I planned to do a series of interviews with each of you,” Skeeter said in a simpering tone as she stormed out.

“Sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Handan apologised.

“It’s ok,” Holly replied.

“Zat’s all vell and good,” Krum said abruptly. “But vot do you vant to talk to us about, Terenss?”

“To suggest a strategy,” he answered cryptically. “You might think the point of this tournament is to see which of us is the best, but it was Professor Dumbledore’s idea originally. We all know that he opposes You-Know-Who.”

“What do you mean by zat?” Fleur asked.

“That Dumbledore has another motive for this tournament. The last time You-Know-Who was around, he started probing other countries, mainly for recruits. But my father believes that his intention was to undermine other magical governments,” Terence elaborated. “So I reckon Dumbledore actually wants us to make friends across borders, probably for allies should You-Know-Who return.”

“You mean when,” Holly corrected.

“What?”

“Come off it, Voldemort,” only Handan failed to flinch, “was really powerful, he has to be finding a way to come back.”

“Fine, when.” Terence rolled his eyes. “My point is that we shouldn’t be competing against one another, we should work together to overcome the tasks.”

“That’s crazy talk,” Gilgarry said dismissively.

“It vould never vork,” Krum said snidely.

Handan was silent for a moment. “No, I’ve seen war. This tournament might have precautions to ensure none of us die, but Holly’s right that You-Know-Who will return. And Terence’s idea makes sense, it can’t hurt to build friendships.”

“I suppose zat I could try,” Fleur mused.

“Then it’s settled,” Terence said with finality. “I won’t force any of you to participate if you don’t want to, but for those interested, I suggest we meet in the disused theatre on the fourth floor of the south wing.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gilgarry said before turning to leave. The others copied him, and the group drifted apart.

“You got somewhere to be, Potter?” Terence asked Holly, causing her to jump slightly.

“Yeah, it’s break time anyway,” she replied. “I’ll see you around.”

“For now, Potter,” he said as he strode off.

)(

_Meet me in the entrance hall at 8’o’clock tonight and bring your cloak_

_-Hagrid_

Holly read the note a second time. She had received it the morning after the wand weighing. So there she was in the entrance hall, cloak in hand, past curfew. She could only hope that whatever Hagrid wanted to show her was worth it. Within a few moments, her large friend had stepped through the double doors.

“Yeh brought yer cloak, good,” he said. “Yer gonna need it once we get into the forest.”

“Forest?” Holly repeated. “Hagrid, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

Soon enough they were among the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The sun had set several hours before, and Holly tried her best to follow the light from Hagrid’s lantern, the odd root confounding her feet.

“I reckoned seein’ as how yer the youngest champion, it’s only fair yeh get a legup,” Hagrid told her. “So I thought yeh migh’ like ter see wha’ yer up agains’.”

Holly’s response to this was lost in the loud roar that shook trees and made her jump four feet in the air. She landed heavily, sprawled on the ground.

“What was that?!” She gasped.

“A dragon,” Hagrid replied simply, in the tone of one explaining how to make tea. He pulled her to her feet, nearly yanking her arm out of its socket.

Peering over a bush, Holly could see he was right. Six large cages were set out in a clearing; inside were dragons, one in each. A second roar came from a dragon in the front, and a group of handlers rushed over to it, only to be stopped by the column of flame it sent forth.

“Dragons?! Hagrid, that’s insane!” Holly exclaimed.

“Dragons are seriously misunderstood creatures, Holly,” Hagrid said. “Though tha’ Horntail’s a nasty piece o’ work.” He pointed to the front dragon that was sending flames licking at the group of handlers periodically. “Oh, there’s Charlie, think I’ll go see ‘bout Norbert.”

Hagrid was talking about the dragon he had hatched in Holly’s first year. She and her friends had managed to convince him to give it Ronnie’s brother, Charlie, who worked on a reserve, before it burned his hut as it grew.

“O-ok,” said Holly. “I think I’ll head back up to the castle.”

“Righ’o,” Hagrid grinned. “Glad to ‘elp, Ronnie said yeh could do with a hand.”

“Ronnie?”

“Yeah, you two are still friends, righ’?”

“It’s complicated,” Holly replied.

Hagrid didn’t ask any more when she turned to return to her bed.

The common room was empty when she arrived, though Holly could tell where the twins had been from the mess in their usual corner. She fell onto the sofa, letting out a long sigh when she did.

“Holly!” A voice whispered hoarsely. Holly jumped to her feet, spinning around to find who had said her name. Seeing no one, she sat back down, only to leap into a strange impression of a beached jellyfish when she landed on the floor.

Sirius’s head was in the fire.

“Sirius?!”

“That’s me,” her godmother smiled. “You’re going to have to listen, we don’t have much time. I heard you’ve been entered into the tournament.”

“Yeah, but it was someone else who did it.”

“I know,” Sirius said placatingly. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, that spineless Barty Crouch is letting you compete, which is dangerous. Dumbledore will have Moody on your case, I suspect, he’s an ex-Auror, so he’s got experience in surviving. I’d follow his advice if you want to see this through.”

“He’s a bit rough,” Holly commented.

“That’s just his way,” Sirius chuckled. “He hasn’t survived this long without picking up a few weird habits. Another thing, though,” her face became serious. “One of the other headmasters, Karkaroff, is a Death Eater, one of You-Know-Who’s followers.”

“You mean ex-Death Eater?”

“No Holly, once you’re in to You-Know-Who’s inner circle, you’re in it for life,” Sirius corrected her. “Make sure you’re never in the same room as him alone,” she warned Holly. “There’s only so much I can do for you from where I am, but keep me posted.”

Suddenly, Sirius’s eyes widened.

“Someone’s coming,” she said tensely. “Act natural.”

Holly straightened up, Ronnie was climbing down the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” Holly asked, hackles raised.

“I thought I heard voices,” Ronnie said as way of explanation. “Never mind, you’re just practicing for your next interview.”

“I didn’t put my name in, Ronnie,” said Holly in exasperation.

“Save it for the press, Holly,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed back up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.

Holly put her face in her hands. How could Ronnie be so blind? They were supposed to be best friends, yet she was treating her as if they- Holly couldn’t bear to let her mind wander down this line of thought. She picked herself off the sofa and climbed the stairs to bed.

Holly’s dreams were a strange jumble of images: Heracles’s teeth growing through the floor, Rita Skeeter asking her if she would do a photoshoot for her gossip magazine, a dragon raining fire on a graveyard where a man approached her with a knife, ready to draw her blood.


	10. Vice-President Anazi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a hiatus there, but assignments don't do themselves sadly. Term is coming to a close, so the deadlines are closing like a pack of hungry wolves. So whilst they're distracted by one of my submissions, I've managed to scamper up a tree and send off this chapter.

**Vice-Minister Anazi**

He sighed as he finished reading the damning verdict. Another group of American wizards had flouted the Statute of Secrecy, this time on home soil.

It was bad enough being the youngest vice-president in MACUSA’s history, and it was worse that it had to be at such a turbulent time as this. Niall Anazi had been chosen as President Bittersea’s running-mate last year for his youthful charm and good work during his time as a federal representative on MACUSA’s senate, championing minority economic rights. What was so great about legal rights, he argued, if the underprivileged were not in a position to enjoy them?

Now that he was in office, however, a raft of other responsibilities prevented him from working more on this project. Sometimes he imagined his appointment to have been brought about by his opponents; whilst the role did give him a lot of power, the baggage of office hindered him in such a way as to make him impotent against those who wanted to repeal years’ worth of progressive legislation.

Another sigh escaped his lips; there was little to be done, he thought to himself. At least he could encourage and suggest measures to the right departments and see that they would be done. The perks of high office were that one’s ideas were given a priority.

Nevertheless, the problem remained, and the magical community was restless. A growing movement was campaigning for the right to marry outside - to bond with no-majs. This was being countered by a vocal and aggressive faction that believed that upholding such a ban was paramount to defending magical heritage. The problem arising from this manifested itself in incidents like this, two parties from both groups engaging in duels in plain sight of no-majs. Federal Obliviators were working around the clock to keep the situation contained, but already the International Confederacy of Warlocks had noticed, and reprimanded MACUSA.

Quentin was about to contemplate that this must have been how the British Minister for Magic felt during the 1970s when a loud bang interrupted his thoughts.

It had come from next door, the President’s office. Quentin jumped from his desk, jogging to the door. He flung it open before making his way down the corridor to the President’s office. Turning the knob, Quentin found it locked.

 _“Alohomora!”_ Nothing happened. He gave his neck the click he customarily gave it before he did something brave and foolish. _“Bombarda!”_

The door flew off its hinges, revealing the chaos within. President Bittersea was surrounded by a trio of flying demons. Unable to make out the shapes within the black clouds swirling about Bittersea, Quentin focused on the man himself. He was terrified; never a good duellist, the President was completely out of his depth.

So was Quentin, if he was being honest with himself. He had no idea what these things were - years of magical education was useless.

It was in the confusion of smoke, strangled cries and bit of paper and furniture cast about by the cloudy entities that the man appeared.

Dressed in a violent green trenchcoat and wearing a bright purple shirt, he calmly strode about the office, able to ignore the fact that the office resembled a tornado. This was probably because the bits of furniture seemed to go out of their way to avoid him, that or he was mad.

“Ah, President Bittersea,” he said with a flourish of his wand. “And Vice-President Anazi, a pleasure to meet you both,” and he flicked his wand at Quentin. Frozen in place, he could only watch in mounting horror as the scene played out before him. “Congratulations on your recent election victory, even if I supported your opponent. Sadly, I can’t bear the thought of the head of MACUSA meddling in affairs beyond his domestic sphere.” The man raised his wand at the President, before turning his gaze on Quentin.

The eyes of a madman bore into Quentin’s skull, making him tremble in his shoes.

“Let this be a warning to you not to interfere in the affairs of others, Mister Vice-President,” the man grinned. “Or should I say President?” There was a green flash, and the sound of something unimaginably vast moving rapidly.

Quentin blinked. The spectres and man were gone, leaving an office that looked like a herd of elephants had stampeded through it. Freed from his magical restraints, Quentin leapt over a broken chair to come to the President’s side. Bittersea’s face was turned to the side, face still contorted in a grimace. Quentin brushed a hand over his former President’s face, closing his eyes.

A bang alerted Quentin to the group of staff that had entered the office.

“I- what happened sir?” a woman asked.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” he replied shakily.

“You’ve killed the President!” exclaimed Boris Lorgar, the Head of the Auror Division, always quick to jump to conclusions.

“No, I haven’t, Boris,” Quentin snapped. “The President’s just been assassinated.”

“By you!” Boris cried, stepping over pieces of broken furniture. “It’s mighty suspicious to find you standing over his dead body.”

“And any decent Auror would have the common sense to realise a good assassin doesn’t linger at the scene of the crime!”

“Then who could have done this?” asked Cassie Gilgarry, chief of the Domestic Transport Unit.

“I was prevented from saving the President by the wizard who killed him.” Quentin began to describe the events leading up to the President’s murder.

)(

The following day, after a sleepless night of chairing the emergency committee, Quentin found himself behind his desk. A knock at the door prompted his dozing to be thrown off.

“Come in,” he said sluggishly.

It was his secretary, Blake Yerning.

“Sir, Warlock Fuddlesticks is here to administer the Oath.”

“Oath?” Quentn thought he must have misheard Blake. After all he couldn’t remember ever discussing an oath.

“The Oath of Office, sir,” Blake explained. “What with President Bittersea gone, the responsibility of governing falls to his Vice-President, you.”

The explanation jolted Quentin awake with all the force of a frying pan to the face, nearly forcing him out of his chair.

“Right, yeah,” he said, moving to stand. “Where is Warlock Fuddlesticks?”

“In your new office, sir, if you’ll follow me.”

They made their way to the President’s office to find Warlock Fuddlesticks, a plump elderly wizard, surrounded by the various heads of department. A reporting team from the New York Portents and Washington Omens stood to the side.

“Ah, Vice-President Anazi,” Warlock Fuddlesticks greeted him jovially. “Ready to take to the Oath?”

Quentin nodded, taking out his wand and placing it in his palm.

“After me, if you will,” Fuddlesticks began. “I solemnly swear to uphold the role of President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America.”

“I solemnly swear to uphold the role of the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America,” he repeated. A thin tendril of golden light wrapped itself around his raised hand.

“To carry out all the duties, customs and traditions of this office forthwith to the utmost of my ability.”

“To carry out all the duties, customs and traditions of this office forthwith to the utmost of my ability.” A second tendril of light wrapped itself round his hand.

“Ensuring I do so with all the diligence expected of me from the magical people of this land, and following the protocols in such a manner as protects witches, wizards and other beings.”

This went on for some time, until finally the Warlock pronounced the last line of the Oath.

“Congratulations, Mr President,” he said, before flicking his wand and allowing the tendrils of light to dissipate from the cage they had formed.


	11. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The champions work together. Holly faces the First Task, reconciling with a friend.

**Holly**

Terence and Fleur were already inside when Holly got to the disused theatre, deeply engaged in conversation. They looked up as she entered. Holly felt a little awkward at the realisation that they were wearing casual clothes whilst she had yet to change out of her uniform.

“Glad you could make it,” Terence told her, coming over to greet her. “We were worried no one else would show up.”

“Heracles talked me into it,” she said quietly.

“Granger? I’ve heard about him,” Terence said, thoughtfully. “Isn’t he always getting top marks in class?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” she chuckled.

A few moments of silence passed between them before the door opened again, revealing Handan and Viktoria. Eventually, Theo Gilgarry came through the doors. They had made a circle of chairs and he promptly sat in the empty chair they had left him.

Terence was the first to speak, clearing his throat.

“Good to see you all here,” he said. “I think now would be a good time to reiterate why we’re here.” He indicated to Holly.

“Oh, er- well, erm,” she faltered. “Voldemort, I guess.” Fleur and Theo flinched at her use of the name. “Th-this tournament’s not about him, but Terence reckons that Dumbledore organised it to help in the fight against him when he comes back.”

“Exactly.” Holly breathed a silent sigh of relief as Terence took over. “We have to start building alliances, friendships now.”

“I came here to vin,” Viktoria said loudly. “I’m only here because my headmaster is not knowing this.”

“You came just to win?” Theo asked in amusement.

Krum looked taken aback at the question, only to look at her feet. “And maybe make some friends,” she said slowly.

“But surely you ‘ave a lot of friends,” Fleur said. “You are famous, vous êtes une star.”

“No, I don’t,” Viktoria corrected. “Karkaroff doesn’t let me make friends, he thinks it vill distract me from vinning.”

“We’ll show him different, then, won’t we?” Handan said encouragingly.

“This doesn’t bring us any closer to knowing what the first task is,” Terence said abruptly, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“It’s dragons,” Holly stated, glad to be able to contribute in some way.

The five other champions spluttered.

“Dragons?” Theo asked. “You’re sure?”

“I saw them - they’re keeping them in the Forbidden Forest, one for each of us,” she told them.

“I suppose that’s a simple premise for the first task,” Terence said wryly. “Get past the dragon and retrieve something.”

“Excusez-moi, zere is nothing simple about zat!” Fleur cried. “Dragons are dangerous.”

“Which is why we’ll get past them,” Handan said sternly.

“How?” Holly asked.

“By playing to our strengths,” Handan answered. “What are you good at, Fleur?”

“Charms,” she replied.

“So why not put the dragon to sleep?” Handan suggested. “What about you, Viktoria?”

“I suppose I could enchant ze dragon to fly avay,” Viktoria suggested. “Make it think that there’s something vorth it’s attention.”

“I can do a great Disillusionment Charm,” Theo piped up. “Sneak past the dragon.”

“What about you Holly?” Handan turned to her, putting Holly on the spot. “There must be a talent you have you can use to get past a dragon.”

Holly struggled to think of something she was particularly good at, but all she could hear was Lee Jordan’s voice “And Potter catches the Snitch, Gryffindor wins!”.

“I’m good at flying, I guess,” she said tentatively.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Terence chuckled. “Haven’t you beaten every other Seeker in a fair game since you joined the Gryffindor team?”

“Vhy didn’t you say you played Quidditch?” Viktoria asked her incredulously. “Ve should talk about it.”

Holly didn’t know what to say; she was being asked, after all, by an international Quidditch star to talk about the sport.

“But ‘Olly is not allowed ‘er broomstick in ze arena,” Fleur said sadly.

“But she is allowed a wand,” Terence added. “You know the Summoning Charm?” he asked Holly.

“No,” she replied. “Professor Flitwick said we’d be covering that charm after Christmas.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not hard to learn,” Handan said reassuringly.

“Y-you’d teach me?” Holly stuttered.

“Of course we will, we’re here to help each other,” she replied. “Let’s make a space for it.”

She and Terence took their wands, waving them at the chairs, creating a space in the centre of the room.

“Right,” Handan said to Holly. “Have you got anything we can Summon?”

“I left my bag in the common room,” she replied.

“Why don’t you try to Summon my wand?” Theo suggested, moving to place his wand on a table in the corner.

“Th-thanks.”

They moved to stand on either side of Holly.

“Now there aren’t any specific wand movements for it, it’s all about willing the object to come to you,” Terence told her. “But I always prefer to point my wand at what I want.”

“My mother just needs ‘er wand in ‘er ‘and,” Fleur added.

“But don’t worry about that, none of us can do that yet either,” Terence smiled.

“You can’t?” Holly asked.

“We’re only seventeen, Holly,” Handan chuckled.

“Oh right, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Terence said. “Now, the incantation is Accio. Do you want me to show you?” Holly nodded. Pointing his wand at Theo’s wand, Terence repeated the spell. _“Accio!”_ Theo’s wand flew through the air towards Terence, who caught it in his left hand. “Now you try.”

Holly gulped, Terence had made it all seem so easy. She tried to visualise the wand flying to her.

 _“Accio!”_ Nothing happened.

“Keep trying, Holly,” Handan patted her shoulder. “Concentrate on the wand, worry less about the incantation.”

This time, focusing on the wand, Holly tried to picture it in her mind. She examined its shape, concentrating on the details.

 _“Accio!”_ This time, the wand stirred, trembling slightly and giving the slightest twitch in her direction.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” Handan grinned.

Terence glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, curfew’ll be in place soon.”

“I should get back to the ship before Karkaroff knows I am gone,” Viktoria told them, starting towards the door.

“I too must go, Madame Maxine will be wondering where I am,” Fleur added.

“Same time and place next week?” Theo asked as he collected his wand.

“I don’t see why not,” Terence replied. “I’ll be here, it’s up to you if you feel like it.”

“I vill think about it,” Viktoria mused before leaving.

“Eet will ‘ave to be, ‘ow you say, discrét?”

“We’ll keep it quiet from the judges,” Handan assured Fleur.

Once Theo and Fleur had left, Handan and Terence turned to Holly.

“We’re gonna be working on our own strategies, great work so far, Holly,” said Terence.

“Keep practising with Heracles,” Handan advised. “And you’ll have Summoning mastered in no time.”

They parted ways on the second floor, Handan returning to the Anatolia sleeping quarters, Terence to the dungeons, and Holly to Gryffindor Tower.

)(

Heracles leapt at the chance to learn a new spell.

“We’re not due to learn it until February, but it’ll still be useful to learn,” he said in excitement.

“And then ye can look even more clever when we get around to learning it in class,” Hamish snorted.

In short order, Heracles had learnt the Summoning Charm, and he and Holly practiced nearly every night in the common room. Nothing was safe once he set his eyes on it. Holly was made to Summon books, quills and parchments.

Slowly, she improved. At first, objects might only twitch, or not move at all if she wasn’t focused enough. But by the end of the week, Holly could Summon a book as well as Heracles.

“Great job, Holly,” he beamed as she Summoned her fifth book of the evening, putting it on the little pile they had built. “I think we can move on to larger things now.”

They had to wait until the following day before they went out into the grounds, far from prying eyes, to practice Summoning her Firebolt.

 _“Accio!”_ Holly said, causing the broom to twitch. After a sigh, Holly ignored the world around her, focusing on the broomstick. _“Accio!”_ This time the Firebolt shot towards, forcing her to duck to avoid being smacked in the face.

Heracles wasn’t so lucky, tripping on a tussock of grass.

“Oof!” he exhaled on landing. “Well done, Holly.”

She laughed at his predicament, coming over to haul him to his feet.

“Shall we keep practicing for now?” he suggested.

He and Holly stayed a little longer, Holly repeatedly Summoning her Firebolt. Eventually, Heracles seemed satisfied with her progress, for he called a halt. Holly’s stomach growled in answer, as it was almost time for lunch.

)(

Far too soon for Holly’s liking came the day of the first task. She trudged down to breakfast, her stomach a pit of writhing eels.

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered after attempting a few mouthfuls of toast.

“Oh, come on Holly, you always say this before a Quidditch game,” Heracles groaned. “At least try and finish your toast.”

“Ye’ll be fine, Hols,” Hamish said, tucking in to his usual porridge. “Ye’ve faced worse.”

“Worse didn’t try to incinerate me,” she said sarcastically. Nevertheless, she managed to eat the remaining piece of toast.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall came to the table.

“Good morning, Miss Potter,” she said. “I trust you slept well?”

“Morning, Professor,” Holly replied.

“If you will come with me to the entrance hall, the other champions and the judges are waiting,” Professor McGonagall said in her tone that brooked no argument.

“I’ll see you guys later,” said Holly as she made to follow Professor McGonagall.

Terence, Handan, Fleur, Theo and Viktoria were already waiting in the entrance hall when they came through the doors. Snape stood beside Terence, passing a sneering glance her way. The others were accompanied by the professors from their schools.

“Good morning, Minerva,” said Snape. “Will Albus be joining us?”

“Not yet, he still has a few things to attend to,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“Are we all here?” asked the cheery voice of Ludo Bagman. “Right, let’s get started, it’s a long walk up to the arena.”

Bagman was right, the walk to the arena took them to a rocky ridge overlooking the Black Lake.

On the way, Professor McGonagall kept pace with Holly.

“Potter, have you had any communication from Wood this year?”

“Erm no, I don’t think so, Professor,” Holly replied curiously.

“A pity,” she said. “I received a letter from him after the announcement of the tournament. I thought you might be pleased, or rather amused, to know that he sent a Howler telling me that I could not “cancel Quidditch”.”

Holly snorted.

Eventually they came to the top of the ridge, out of breath as the wind tugged on their clothes. Holly was very grateful to learn that a tent had been set up where the champions could change into warmer clothes.

She was even more pleased that they each had their own changing area. Holly changed into the trousers, jumper and cloak, decidedly more contented afterwards than she had been in her uniform.

“Are we all proper?” Ludo Bagman boomed.

Holly emerged to find Terence sporting similar kit, though in Slytherin colours. Viktoria, Fleur, Handan and Theo each sported their own kit. Theo seemed very laidback, clad in an orange hoody and jeans, his boots being the only thing suggesting that he might be facing a dragon later. By contrast, Handan looked ready to take on all six dragons at once as she adjusted on the straps on her dragonskin jerkin, with pads strapped to her knees and elbows.

Ludo Bagman was standing by the entrance, holding open the tent flap.

“Let’s go and see this arena, eh?”

He led them down the gravel path from the tent to the arena’s entrance and into the space itself. Dominated by large boulders with patches of gravel, Holly’s eyes were drawn to the central jumble of rocks. At its top was what looked like a nest.

“Ah, Ludo, good of you to join us,” Barty Crouch commented snidely. “We haven’t got long before everyone arrives to watch. Does anyone have any idea what you’ll be facing?”

They put on a convincing show of being unawares.

“Good,” Crouch seemed happy. “There are six dragons, one for each of you. Your task is to retrieve the golden egg that the dragon is guarding. The judges will be awarding points for other things like ingenuity, bravery and display of magical skill. Are there any questions?” The task seemed straightforward enough. “Good. Now, if you could all return to the tent, I will bring the bag from which your dragon will be selected.”

They trooped back to the tent for anxious wait. Holly could the approaching sound of spectators arriving. Bit by bit, the sound grew in volume, until it reached a loud hubbub.

Barty Crouch reappeared, accompanied by Professor Dumbledore, Headman Talit, the Ilvermorny professor, Madam Maxine, and Karkaroff, clutching a purple velvet bag.

“Gather round, champions,” Professor Dumbledore called. They came to stand before the bag.

“If each of you could put your hand in this bag and remove a replica of the dragon you will be facing,” Crouch requested.

Fleur was first, slowly pushing her hand into the bag. Holly noticed it seemed to be squirming slightly. Tentatively, Fleur took out her hand, fingers holding a grey model of a dragon. The model growled softly.

“Ah, the Swedish Shortsnout,” Crouch said approvingly. “Now Miss Krum.”

Viktoria pulled out a red model that seemed particularly aggressive.

“The Chinese Fireball,” breathed Crouch. “Mr Higgs, if you will.” Terence held a small green replica. “A Welsh Green. Now Mr Gilgarry.”

Theo removed his hand, fingers clutched around a sleek yellow replica.

“The African Snapper. Miss Malik, if you would be so kind.”

Handan retrieved a mottled brown replica which kept trying to escape.

“A Rocky Devil,” Theo gasped. “We used to go lookin’ for them durin’ vacations with my parents,” he said as explanation to the surprised stares.

Holly was in doubt as to which dragon she would be facing, her stomach churning in anticipation nonetheless. She put her hand in the bag; a small mouth bit her finger for her trouble.

“Ow!” Holly gasped, pulling out an angry and very spiny replica.

“The Hungarian Horntail,” said Crouch. “Good, now that you have all selected a dragon, the judges and I shall leave for our table. You will be going in surname alphabetical order, so Miss Delacour, at the sound of the cannon you may enter the arena and begin.”

Several moments later, a loud bang prompted Fleur to leave the tent for the arena. Holly wished her luck as she left, receiving a stiff nod in return.

The wait that followed was tense, and each of them went off to a separate corner of the tent. Terence and Viktoria muttered to themselves, seemingly to boost their confidence; Theo simply sat, twirling his wand in his hands. Handan meanwhile, paced back and forth, loosening her arms and neck.

Holly was left on to sit on the bench, straining her ears to hear what was going on.

“Psst,” a voice hissed at her from the edge of the tent. Holly looked up quickly to see Heracles’s head poking from around the flap of the tent.

“Heracles, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I came to you, obviously,” he replied matter-of-factly, before slipping inside the tent fully. He had pulled a hat over his hair, though a few strands had escaped. Wrapped in a woolly jumper and waterproof coat, he looked out of place amongst the champions in their sleek kit. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I suppose, it’s only a dragon,” she snorted.

“Don’t worry, I asked Professor McGonagall, who said that your cloak is charmed to resist dragonfire,” Heracles said in a reassuring tone. Not satisfied with her thin smile, he pulled her into a hug.

A white flash blinded Holly for a few moments. She blinked. Rita Skeeter and her photographer were grinning liked they’d won the lottery.

“My, my, Holly,” she said in a predatory tone. “Are you sure you don’t have anyone in mind? Could you undo a few buttons for Dave’s next shot? My readers will love it.”

Heracles came to stand protectively in front of her.

“I was under the impression you were here to report on the tournament, not fabricate sordid affairs for my friend,” he spat.

“And who might you be, my dear?” Rita asked, rattled.

“Heracles Granger,” he said in a sneer. “Though from the heavy makeup, fake curls and unmistakeable cheap perfume, you must be Rita Skeeter. Your reputation proceeds you.”

Rita Skeeter was about to retort, when Theo cut across her.

“Why don’t you leave this tent?” he asked. “It’s for champions and friends only.”

“We were just going,” she said snidely. “Weren’t we, Dave? I’ll see you all around, I hope.”

She swept from the tent, leaving behind an undeniable scent of fake roses.

“Thanks, Theo,” Holly said gratefully.

“No problem,” he said. “You must be Heracles, righ’?” he said, extending a hand.

“Yes, that’s me,” Heracles shook his hand.

“See ya around,” said Theo, going back to his corner to play with his wand.

“I should go,” said Heracles. “Hamish is saving my seat. Just remember what we practiced and everything’ll be fine.”

They exchanged a final hug before Heracles left the tent.

After a long and anxious wait, Holly was the last champion in the tent. It felt like an age had passed when the cannon finally went. Shaking, Holly stood up and made her way out of the tent and down the passage leading into the arena.

Lee Jordan’s voice echoed in the space.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our sixth and final contestant: Holly Potter!”

Holly stopped suddenly. Where was the dragon? Everything but the beast was there.

A gout of flame prompted her to throw herself against the gravel.

So that’s where you are, Holly thought to herself. The Horntail was crouched between two large boulders. It shot another fiery tongue towards her, but by the time it reached her, Holly was on her feet running. Flames licked at her heels, but Holly put on a turn of speed.

If she could get to cover then she might be able to concentrate on Summoning her Firebolt. A pile of smaller rocks presented itself, and Holly dived behind them, scraping her knee as she did so. She could hear the dragon move to try and find her.

She tried to focus on her broomstick, the feel of the shaft, the familiar support of the foot struts. Holly raised her wand in the direction of the castle.

 _“Accio Firebolt!”_ Holly cried.

Much to her dismay, however, this attracted the attention of the Horntail. It roared, pouring forth a column of fire, the flames flickering around the top of the rock pile. It was time to move.

Slowly clambering to her feet, Holly moved into a crouch. The second the flames subsided, she burst into a sprint, gravel churning under her feet. A rock loomed large, and Holly leapt onto its side, beginning a mad scramble. She had just reached the top when a whooshing alerted her that the Horntail had taken flight.

Holly span about, only to see its tail hurtling towards her. A well-timed leap avoided the spines, but Holly was still sent tumbling down the side of the boulder, landing with a thump on her side.

Winded for a moment, Holly quickly regained her senses, spotting the familiar shape of her Firebolt hurtling towards her.

The Horntail had turned around, however, and now bore down on Holly, opening its mouth to shoot out another gout of fire. Scrambling over the rocks littering the ground, Holly dashed out of its way.

All I have to do is keep out of its way until my Firebolt gets here, she thought, legs pumping in spite of the bruising.

She dared a quick glance over her shoulder; her broom was getting closer, the Horntail not far behind.

Suddenly, it was flying beside her. Hopping atop a rock, Holly threw herself onto her broom. She flung a leg into the far stirrup and brought the nose upwards, starting a spiralling ascent. Her right foot adjusted itself in the stirrup, allowing her to do the same with the left.

Angling her Firebolt, Holly changed into a long, looping dive, the dragon following. She circled around the arena, the faces of the spectators turning into a blur. She glanced behind her, seeing that the Horntail was hungrily following her, wings beating the air.

Quick as a flash, Holly jolted her broom towards the pinnacle of rock, shooting towards the golden egg that glinted in the centre. Closer and closer she came, until a sudden wall of flame forced her to swerve upwards at the last moment.

Breathing heavily, Holly looked back to assess the situation. The Horntail had shot fire to block her attempt to raid its nest. Now it was rapidly rising to meet her.

Holly waited until it was level with her before dropping into a fast dive. The Horntail, slow to react, shot flames at where she had been. Holly, meanwhile, rocketed towards its nest. The egg reflected the flames catching up with her, and Holly willed her Firebolt faster, pushing herself closer to the handle.

She stretched out a hand. As her fingers brushed the egg, she grabbed hold, swerving and spiralling to avoid crashing into the rock. A crash signalled that the Horntail was not so fortunate.

“She’s got it! Holly Potter retrieves the egg!” Lee’s voice boomed ecstatically.

Pulling up from her dive, Holly caught sight of Terence and Handan waving her over to a pad by the judges’ table.

“That was some great flying, Holly!” Handan exclaimed as she landed.

“Nice one, Potter,” Terence smiled.

“Yeah, good job,” Theo said in congratulation.

Fleur had a small smile on her face. “I am glad you did not get ‘urt,” she said.

A team of dragon tamers had come out into the arena and were trying to subdue the Horntail, to mixed success.

“That vas some good flying,” Viktoria told Holly.

“Th-thanks,” she said.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the judges are ready to give their verdict,” Lee’s voice interrupted them, bringing their attention to the judges’ table. “The verdict for Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons’ champion.”

Professor Dumbledore held up a seven, Karkaroff a four, the Ilvermorny professor six, Barty Crouch a seven, Headman Talit a five and Madam Maxine an eight.

“That’s a total of 37 for Beauxbatons,” Lee confirmed. “The verdict for Theo Gilgarry, Ilvermorny’s champion.”

Holly allowed herself to lose focus, replaying parts of her encounter with the Horntail. Now it was over and that the adrenaline had worn off, she was more than thankful for the chairs provided at the back of the pad. Feeling rather like a porcelain vase, Holly sat down, her Firebolt across her lap, and hands shaking. The bruises were making themselves known, with dull aches from her knee and in her side.

A nudge from Fleur brought her back to reality.

“And, finally, the verdict for Holly Potter,” Lee’s voice boomed, prompting cheers from the crowd. Professor Dumbledore gave her an eight, Karkaroff a five, the Ilvermorny professor a ten, Barty Crouch a six, Headman Talit a nine and Madam Maxine a seven. “That’s 45 points in total, putting Holly Potter in third place.”

Third place. Holly felt she should be awarded a first place for surviving, but grinned nonetheless.

As they left the champions’ tent, Holly was caught in what could only be described as one of the best hugs ever experienced. Mrs Weasley held onto her shoulders as she appraised her, eyes scanning for any injuries.

“Holly, how are you, my dear?” she began. “I hope Madam Pomfrey has given you the right ointment for those bruises. Never in all my days- I…Dumbledore had better be ready for me when I give him a piece of my mind- honestly- allowing a child to face a dragon alone. Madness!”

“It’s alright, Molly,” Mr Weasley’s calming voice did its best at soothing Mrs Weasley, who stood back to let Holly see the group around her. Aside Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hamish’s parents and Remus had come to watch. “Holly knows how to look after herself.”

“Well done, lass,” Dougal said merrily.

“I can see why Hamish says you’re a brilliant flyer,” Gwen told her. Holly felt her face redden slightly. “Heracles’s parents couldn’t make it sadly, too many restrictions on Muggles.”

“Padfoot passes on her congratulations,” said Remus. “Good one on getting past the dragon.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“It’s not any trouble, dear,” said Mrs Weasley. “Of course we would come to see you compete.”

“I have to go,” said Remus, looking over Holly’s head where Barty Crouch was having a conversation with Karkaroff. “The Ministry’s not overly fond of werewolves like myself.”

Holly was put out by the statement. “That’s not fair! Don’t they know that you fought against Voldemort?”

He sighed. “It hardly matters to them, I’m afraid, Holly,” he told her. “Current Ministry policy towards my kind doesn’t differentiate between werewolves who actively try and infect more people, and those who just try and get on with their lives.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Holly grumbled.

“It doesn’t,” Remus agreed. “But for now it’s easier if I go. Next time I’ll come with placards for a protest,” he winked, before bending down to embrace her firmly. “Keep me posted.”

 “We ought to be going too,” Gwen said, holding Dougal’s hand. “I had a chat with Hamish before the task and told him we had to get back to finish editing tomorrow’s edition.”

One after the other, Gwen and Dougal gave her a hug, before joining Remus to the Disapparition point.

It looked as if Mr Weasley was about to announce their departure, but Mrs Weasley cut him off before he even began.

“Arthur, we have to go and make sure the twins aren’t up to their tricks,” she said abruptly. “We don’t want them to be running a betting ring or something else highly inappropriate.”

“Yes, dear,” Mr Weasley sighed. “Well done again, Holly, stay safe.”

“Oh yes, Holly my dear,” Mrs Weasley said as if she had forgotten. “Shall we expect you over for Christmas again this year?”

Holly wasn’t quite up to telling them about her falling out with Ronnie. “Er, yeah I guess.”

“Splendid,” Mrs Weasley beamed. “Now we must be off; try to stay out of any unnecessary trouble.”

“I wish I could, Mrs Weasley, but trouble usually comes looking for me,” Holly said with a shrug.

Mrs Weasley looked alarmed at this, but managed to regain control of her expression.

“Goodbye, Holly, until Christmas,” she said, before dragging Mr Weasley off to find Fred and George.

Looking about her, Holly saw that the other champions and most of the crowd were gone, prompting her to walk quickly to keep up. One group that wasn’t ahead of her suddenly flanked her.

“Great job, Holly,” said Hamish happily. “It never knew what it got itself into.”

“I knew you could do it,” Heracles affirmed.

“Thanks guys,” Holly beamed, wincing a little as she walked.

“Oh, erm, someone wants to talk to ye,” Hamish said secretively. “Ye’ll want some privacy so we’ll see you back in the common room. Fred and George are gonna have a party.”

Before Holly could say so much as say Quidditch, they had left her at a jog.

“Sorry for not believing you.”

Holly span around to face Ronnie. She was looking at her feet, biting her lip anxiously.

“I wish I had,” she continued. “I just got jealous, I guess - you’re famous and now you’re a champion as well.”

Holly was not prepared for this. “I- well we’re all a bit stupid sometimes, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Ronnie snorted. “Was the peek at the dragons useful though?”

“That was you?!”

“I told Hagrid to show you,” she explained. “I was still sulking but I thought I might as well try and help you. I didn’t know it was dragons though, not until today.” Ronnie sighed. “It was only when I found out I realised how stupid I’ve been. I mean, who signs up for life and death trials, especially you - you get it every year.”

“So, my near-roasting changed your mind?” Holly asked.

“Yeah it did,” Ronnie said, pulling herself upright.

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

Ronnie shifted on her feet uneasily. “Well I was hoping you’d forgive me. I’m sorry for not believing you, I really am,” she said sheepishly.

Holly felt a rush of indignation. Only when it looked like she might die did Ronnie believe her.

I could have done with your support weeks ago, she thought angrily. Holly was tempted to spit in Ronnie’s face there and then, but not many people believed her story, and one more friend was better than none.

“It’s alright, I accept your apology,” Holly said, seeming to lift a weight from Ronnie’s shoulders. “But next time you try and help me, just do it in person.”

“I will,” said Ronnie with a smile. “We should probably get going.” They were the only two still at the top of the ridge. “There’s still a party we have to go to.”

                                                                                                                      


	12. Ronnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buying a dress for the ball is straightforward compared to finding a date for the ball, something Ronnie could tell you herself. At least she isn't expected to do the asking, though that doesn't stop her seeking help from a friend. Still, we can only wonder what Hamish is going through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small hiatus to get work done for assignments, this uni thing isn't as easy as leaflets and flyers make it out to be. Here's a Boxing Day chapter instead.

Ronnie stamped her feet. The cold had descended over Hogwarts in the last few weeks, along with a blanket of snow. She was thankful she was wearing several jumpers under her old jacket, one of Priscilla’s old hats and two pairs of ragged walking socks in her boots. She was warm, if a little scruffy. Holly, meanwhile, was dressed in a new winter coat, a warm scarf matching her green bonnet, and thick tights kept her legs warm under her wool skirt.

Of the two, Holly looked undeniably the more stylish, with her coat creeping down to her knees.

They were standing by the gates, being joined by several of the girls from Anatolia who hadn’t yet bought dresses. Officially there wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend until the beginning of December, but the heads of the different schools had arranged for a separate trip for any requiring robes for the Yule Ball.

“Sir- Padfoot better not take forever,” Ronnie grumbled, shivering. “It’s bloody freezing out here.”

“She won’t be long,” Holly said reassuringly.

“Right then, girls, have you got your purses?” Professor Sprout called. Turning around, Ronnie saw that Madam Maxine had joined her. “We’ll be going to Tess’s Robes for All Occasions and Dusk til Dawn, so there won’t be any time for dilly dallying. If you could all stick with a partner, and try to stay with the group; we don’t want to lose anyone.”

A soft voice piped up.

“I’m not too late, am I?” a young-looking blonde woman asked from the other side of the gates. There was something familiar about her.

“You must be Miss Potter’s aunt. Professor Dumbledore said you would be coming,” said Professor Sprout. It was Sirius. “We’re just about to set off, if you’ll just stand back from the gates.”

The gates swung open, and Professor Spout led the way. Sirius fell in step beside them.

“Everything all right, you two?” she asked.

“Alright,” said Holly.

“Yeah, me too,” Ronnie added.

“What d’you think of the look?” Sirius asked. The Charms she had used were very convincing, making her look like some model, and, from the rich fur coat, a model that was doing well.

“If I didn’t know better,” Holly mused. “I’d say you looked like Malfoy’s mum.”

Sirius snorted. “Remus seemed to think going as Narcissa might be a bit much. Still, I don’t want your friends to think that all your relatives are awful, so I thought I’d bring some class.”

“You can say that again,” said Ronnie.

When they got into Hogsmeade, the group split up, half going into Tess’s Robes for All Occasions, the other into Dusk til Dawn.

“Let’s go into Tess’s,” Sirius said. “The guy who owns the other shop gives me the creeps.”

“What d’you mean?” Holly asked.

“Dunno, he always looks at me as if he recognises me from somewhere,” Sirius said quickly, guiding them towards her preferred shop.

The interior was bigger that the outside, and several square levels looked down onto the main shop floor, where dark wood doors led off to more rooms full of clothes. Ronnie was reminded of Parvati Patil’s description of some of the shops in the Champs Elysées, full of oak panelled walls and gilded lights and chandeliers.

“Upstairs,” Sirius pointed to a flight of stairs leading from an alcove. “Ball dresses are that way.”

The third floor was just as stately as every floor they had passed, with panelled wood walls that could be seen between racks of dresses. Small chandeliers lit the level. Looking down to the ground floor, Ronnie saw that many of the girls were leaving the shop, only to be replaced by another cohort from Hogwarts.

“Why don’t you two go and see if there’s anything that catches your eye, and I’ll have a look around as well,” Sirius suggested. “We can meet by the changing rooms in about ten minutes.”

Ronnie followed Holly, occasionally stopping to examine a dress that caught her eye. She was nearly tempted by a gold number, with a long slit that would have showed a noticeable bit of leg, something Ronnie was sure her mother would disapprove of.

“What about this?” Holly asked, holding up a red velvet dress with a single wide shoulder strap.

“I guess it could work,” Ronnie replied.

She held up a purple dress that went straight down to her feet, lace sleeves stopping short of her elbows.

“This? I mean it hides my legs,” Ronnie told Holly.

Holly laughed. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing,” Ronnie said quickly. “It’s just it’s a ball.”

“Exactly, you want something that will flow when you dance,” Holly smiled.

Ten minutes later, they reunited with Sirius, who had picked up a few dresses herself.

“Alright, Ronnie, I think these might be your style,” Sirius said, handing her four outfits. “Why don’t you try them on?”

The first was an orange gown that reached down to her ankles, its spaghetti straps tugging on her shoulders.

“Can we see?” Sirius asked from outside.

Ronnie sighed, pulling back the curtain.

Holly’s eyebrows raised, and Sirius nodded appreciatively. Ronnie blushed. The dress hugged her torso, making her feel exposed. She certainly couldn’t see herself wearing this to any ball.

“The colour doesn’t really go with your hair, orange on orange,” Sirius clicked her tongue. “Sorry Ronnie, I’ve never been great when it comes down to fashion or anything like that, I had friends help me back when I was in Hogwarts. Why don’t you try on another?”

A blue number followed, the thicker straps that were part of the dress’s fabric already an improvement in her eyes. It flared slightly at the hips, swishing softly as Ronnie turned to examine the back. A large bow tied off the waist sash.

“Getting there,” said Holly on seeing it. “Let’s see what the other two are like.”

A purple wrap dress settled on her shoulders, stopping short of her ankles, and lighter layers of material flaring outwards from her hips swished as Ronnie twirled for Holly and Sirius.

“I like it,” she said, enjoying how the dress felt. It wrapped around her torso, though Ronnie relished that it cradled her upper body, rather than the tight embrace of the first dress. Not that she would admit this to anyone - she was thankful it was only Holly and Sirius she had to be judged by.

“I should hope so,” Sirius chuckled. “Because you look splendid.”

“Yeah, forget the sparkly dress! This is the one, Ronnie,” Holly added in agreement.

Emerging in her normal clothes once more, Ronnie put the rejected gowns onto a nearby trolley. She joined Sirius in the seating area whilst they waited for Holly to get changed.

Holly reappeared a yellow dress floating around her legs. It looked amazing, or perhaps that was because Holly looked amazing, Ronnie wasn’t too sure. Thankfully, she and Holly were less attracted to its low cut.

“Erm Sirius? Does it have to be cut quite this low?” Holly asked, gesturing to the deep v-cut that went down mid-torso.

“I was thinking the same, I didn’t realise when I picked it up,” Sirius barked in laughter. “Why don’t you try another?”

Holly reappeared, this time in a flowing, blue dress topped with an embroidered top. Ronnie was enchanted by the way the rubies on the bodice glinted in the light of the chandeliers.

“Very classy,” Sirius commented.

“It’s not really my thing,” Holly said, shaking her head at the navy-blue dress.

Ronnie was very glad she had thought this, as Holly had looked good in the dress. The same was true of the silver gown that followed, though here Ronnie completely agreed that her friend did not suit lace very much.

Finally, after much debate, and several dresses later, Holly stepped out of the booth, her body clad in a deep evergreen ball gown. Strapless, two semi-sleeves hugged her upper arms. It flowed down to her feet. Ronnie couldn’t help but notice the outlines of pines in a slightly lighter green decorating the hem stretching up to Holly’s knees.

“Classy, but not over the top,” Sirius said in approval. “What d’you think, Ronnie?”

“It suits you,” she said. “I’d go for that one, Holly.”

“It feels nice,” said Holly.

“If you weren’t turning heads, you certainly will now,” Sirius chuckled. “Why don’t you get changed, and I’ll take these other dresses back. I’ll see you both by the till.”

Sirius insisted on paying for both dresses, despite Ronnie’s best protests at having brought her own money. Though Ronnie still dreaded the thought of the ball, that she knew she would be looking good instead of like a set of curtains from her Aunt Tessie’s house suddenly made the event more bearable, even appealing.

)(

“I just don’t get what’s so hard for them,” Ronnie moaned. “All they have to do is ask us.”

“I know,” said Hamish as they walked through the courtyard. Once again, Heracles was in the library, leaving Ronnie, Hamish and Holly to have their lunch break without him.

Groups of boys occasionally managed to goad one of their members to move towards the three of them, but Ronnie would then see them return to their comrades, heads down. Rarely, one would return after asking a girl from another huddle with his head held high, his friends giving him claps on the back for his success.

“What do you mean?” Holly asked him.

“Oh er, I know it must be hard for ye,” he said quickly.

“Why don’t you ask one of us, then?” Ronnie gestured to herself and Holly.

“Because ye’re both friends to me,” Hamish shrugged. “Besides, we spend loads of time together anyway.”

“E-excuse me,” A fifth year Hufflepuff had stopped in front of them. “Wou-ld you like to g-go to the ball with me?”

“No thanks,” Ronnie told him abruptly.

“I wasn’t asking you,” The Hufflepuff sneered, pointedly staring at Holly.

Ronnie’s shoulders slumped. Of course he didn’t mean her, she was just Holly Potter’s friend, and not worth the attention.

“Not after the way you just treated my friend,” Holly shot back.

The boy looked struck as he stumbled away from him and back to his own group of friends.

“Thanks, Holly,” Ronnie said gratefully, smiling.

She fumed. “Anyone who talks like that to my friends isn’t worth my time.”

“What about Colin?” Hamish asked, seeing the bright-eyed Gryffindor third year practically bounced towards them.

“Hi Holly,” he greeted. “So, you know that third years can come to the ball with an of-age partner.”

“Erm, sorry Colin, someone’s already asked me,” Holly told him.

His eyes dimmed a little. Colin was known for his rapacious hero-worship of Holly. “That’s ok, I hope you have a great time.”

“Thanks, Colin.”

He bounded off.

“But you don’t have a date yet?” Ronnie said, eyes following a boy as he successfully asked a Beauxbatons girl to the ball.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to know that,” Holly said furtively. “Besides, he’s too….young.”

At that moment, a group of Ravenclaw fourth years ambled past. Their heads were bowed as they discussed among themselves. Some looked up as they passed, the boys blushing when they caught Ronnie or Holly’s eye.

“I need to catch up with those guys,” Hamish said suddenly. “I’ll see you guys in Astronomy.”

Hamish strode off after the group before either Ronnie of Holly could say their good byes, leaving the pair alone in the courtyard.

“Hey Ronnie,” Ronnie turned to find Dean Thomas fidgeting in front of her. “I was wondering if you’d like to go the ball with me.”

Ronnie grimaced. She liked Dean, yet the thought of going with him failed to appeal.

“Sorry, Dean, someone already asked me,” she told him. “Better luck next time.”

“I’ll go with you, Dean,” Holly suggested kindly.

“It’s alright, Holly,” he smiled. “You’ve probably got loads asking you. Do you think Ginny’s got a date yet?”

“Dunno,” Ronnie shrugged. “But Fred and George will want a word first.”

“Oh, right- yes of course,” Dean chuckled. “Right, well I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Bye, Dean,” Ronnie said, waving him goodbye.

Their lunch time was about to end, and Ronnie and Holly turned to go back indoors.

“Hey, Potter.” Terence Higgs, the Slytherin champion, was coming up behind them. They turned to face him. He was out of breath. “Potter, has anyone asked you to the ball yet?”

“Er no, why?” Holly replied.

“Good, because I was wondering if you’d go with me,” he said. “As friends, to show some unity between the Hogwarts champions. If we’re being honest, partners only really matter for the first few dances, most people’ll drift back to friends afterwards.”

“I guess, yeah,” Holly chewed her lip. “As friends, sure.”

“Great, I’ll see you around, Holly,” he smiled, before jogging off down towards the greenhouses.

Well that was easy, Ronnie thought to herself If only boys could be as straightforward as that with me.

)(

Astronomy was as dull as ever as Ronnie struggled to plot the lunar phases.

“Any luck?” Heracles asked her across the desk after turning from his telescope.

“Nope,” she grunted.

Hang on, Ronnie thought to herself, how come Heracles hasn’t asked me?

“Cles, you’re a boy, right?”

“You noticed,” he said wryly.

“Well, you haven’t asked me to the ball is all,” she explained.

“You hadn’t considered that I already asked someone?” Heracles remarked. “My feelings on this are the same as those of Hamish.”

“So, someone said yes?”

“Shockingly enough, Ronnie, someone did say yes, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” The snide comment prompted Ronnie to snap her head the other way to stop her from snapping something back at him. She had already had a falling out with one friend this year, she wasn’t prepared to repeat the feat.

“Psst, Ronnie,” Seamus grabbed her attention with a prod. “D’ye have a date to the ball yet?”

“No, not yet,” she replied, turning in her seat to face him.

“Why don’t you go with me?” he asked.

Ronnie thought for a moment, Seamus could be annoying at times, and he wasn’t the boy she would have liked to go with. Then again, it seemed like all her friends had dates, even if Holly insisted it was an arrangement between friends. “Yeah, alright.”

“Great, meet ye by the doors then,” Seamus grinned.

That was that, she had a date.

“This is a silent exercise,” Professor Sinistra reminded them sharply, prompting Ronnie to return to her lunar chart.

 


	13. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly accompanies Terence to the ball. Heracles's mystery partner is revealed to Ronnie's displeasure. Hamish meanwhile, engages in a solo adventure, whilst Holly overhears some private and worrying conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, life has gotten in the way of this fic. The end of term means the deadlines are crunching together, and as I'm paying over 9 grand for this, it's best I concentrate on that for the time being. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter, revealing some new threads and developments in other subplots. I should have some free time to pump out a few more over my easter break.

**Holly**

Preparations for the Yule Ball began at 5’o’clock, Holly joining the other girls in retreating to the dorms. Laid across her bed was the dress Sirius had bought for her. Holly looked down at it, hoping it wouldn’t garner her too many looks.

“Right, girls, let’s get sorted!” Parvati Patil announced as she entered. “Lance has agreed to do nails for people, and I can sort your hair and makeup.”

“You mean I can’t just go like this?” Holly asked, gesturing to her usual ponytail.

“Oh honey, of course not! You can’t go with your hair like that, trust me,” Parvati told her sweetly.

Holly, while feeling annoyed at the patronising tone, allowed Parvati to apply spells and sprays to her hair. Ronnie followed her example, grumbling all the while.

“There, what d’you think?” Parvati asked when Holly was finally allowed to see the handiwork in the mirror.

For a few moments, Holly was dumbstruck by the transformation. Much of her fiery hair had been put into a small, sleek beehive, several curled locks tumbled down to her shoulders. The streak of green had been separated from the rest, and spiralled in front of her left ear.

“It’s good, great even,” said Holly, breaking from the trance.

“Thanks, Holly,” Parvati beamed. “Hopefully you’ll stand out from the crowd. Ronnie, it’s your turn.”

While Ronnie was getting her hair done, Holly put on her dress. She gave it a twirl once it was on, enjoying how the pines at the dress’s hem would appear and disappear as the light on them shifted about.

“Oh wow, Holly, that dress is amazing,” Parvati exclaimed. “It really suits you.”

“Th-thanks,” Holly replied.

“Probably best we keep the makeup light in that case, don’t want to ruin the aesthetic,” she commented.

“Makeup?” Holly and Ronnie asked in unison.

“Well of course, sillies, got to accentuate your lovely eyes!” She gestured to the chair where Holly had had her hair done.

They emerged from their dorm later, the dresses Sirius had bought for them wrapped around them. Hamish and Heracles had already gone down before, their preparations clearly not having taken so long.

“We should probably get going,” said Ronnie. “It’s getting late.”

The walk to the great hall was lit by the braziers wrapped in holly; the only sound came from the clacking of Holly’s heels, Ronnie having opted for flats so as not to draw further attention to her height.

A knot of people had gathered outside the great hall, the other champions among them. Terence waved from a group of Slytherin seventh years. Holly smiled nervously as she approached them, Ronnie on her tail.

“Evening, Potter,” Terence greeted them. “Nice dress, you look resplendent.”

“Th-thanks,” Holly stammered, feeling a blush creeping across her face. The Slytherins were looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. “You look good too.”

Terence looked past her to where Ronnie stood a little way off.

“Weasley, is it?” he asked kindly, walking up to her.

“Er yeah, that’s me,” Ronnie replied defensively.

“Hard not to miss the fierce sister of Charlie Weasley,” he said as way of explanation. “Though you are clearly far more lovely.”

Ronnie’s ears turned magenta. “Thanks,” she said quite loudly.

The Slytherins had moved over to where Holly and Ronnie stood, following Terence’s lead.

“I don’t think you’ve met some of my friends here: Marcus, Quentin, Felicity,” he gestured to three of the elder Slytherin who looked to be about his age. “Though Daphne is in your year.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Holly told him.

Daphne Greengrass was tall, slender, and blonde, with high cheekbones. She carried herself with an air of superiority, leading her to be thought of as the ice princess of Slytherin. As such, Holly knew little about her, only that she didn’t get on with Malfoy very well.

“Well, I suspect your friends Heracles and Hamish will want to see you before we go in. I’ll see you in a bit, Holly. Weasley,” he said, his eyes leading Holly to find the boys in the crowd.

“Hey guys,” Hamish said when they joined them. “Oh wow, ye both look great!”

“Thanks,” Holly and Ronnie echoed each other.

“I must exclaim mutual sentiment,” Heracles told them. “Ronnie, you look ravishing tonight.”

Ronnie did her best impression of a beetroot, muttering something that sounded like a “thanks”.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Holly told Heracles. Unlike most of the boys, who were dressed in wizarding dress robes, Heracles had opted for Muggle attire, in this case a tuxedo matched with an embroidered waistcoat in Gryffindor colours that was paired with his bowtie.

“You think? I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” he replied gratefully.

“No, it looks good on you,” Ronnie jumped in, her blush having dissipated.

Holly was about to remark on Hamish’s kilt, a purple tartan, when Professor McGonagall found her.

“Oh, Miss Potter, I’m afraid you will need to come with me,” she said abruptly. “The champions and their partners are required to enter last.”

“What for, Professor?” Heracles asked.

“Why, for the pre-meal dance, of course,” Professor McGonagall explained. “Now, if you and Miss Potter could follow me to where I have rounded up the rest of the champions.”

“We’ll see ye later,” said Hamish as Holly and Heracles followed Professor McGonagall, Ronnie’s confusion etched on her face.

Fleur was the first to notice their arrival.

“Mais Holly, you look exquisite,” she exclaimed. Holly felt her face warm for the third time that night.

“Thanks Fleur, you too.”

Next to Fleur’s elegant form wrapped in a silvery ball gown, Holly felt this was a little overstating her own efforts.

Theo, Cedric and Terence were dressed in expensive-looking embroidered dress robes, though both turned to greet Holly and Heracles along with Viktoria and Handan. The girls were dressed similarly to Fleur, Viktoria’s gown being supplemented by a fur-lined half cloak, whilst Handan’s turquoise dress was in a Greek-style.

Holly recognised Terry Boot as Fleur’s partner. Theo and Handan must have partnered with someone from each other’s school, as she failed to recognise their partners.

The hubbub of voices eventually calmed as the everyone entered the great hall before them.

“Is everyone here?” Professor McGonagall asked. “Oh good, if you could all line up with your partners, I’d like the girls by me, and the boys on the right.”

Holly moved beside Terence at the back of the column. Looking down the row of champions and partners, she gasped. Heracles was beside Viktoria! She was the date he had mentioned in passing.

There was no time to ask him about this development, because at that moment the doors to the great hall opened, prompting Fleur and Terry Boot to being the procession to the dance floor.

The great hall had been transformed, and the four house tables turned into smaller round tables seating six to eight people. The candlestick bases were decorated with sprigs of holly, and a large chandelier floated over the smooth dance floor in the centre of the room. The stage had had its staff table removed in favour of more space for Professor Flitwick’s school orchestra. It was a veritable winter wonderland.

Holly tried her best to ignore the stares she was receiving.

“You doing ok?” Terence asked her quietly as they passed a table of Anatolia students.

“I’m ok, thanks,” she replied.

She felt him take her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Thanks.”

The walk to the dance floor finally ended after what felt like an age. Holly turned to face Terence, who offered her a wink.

“You ever danced before?” he asked.

“No,” she answered with a gulp.

“I’ll lead, just place your hand on my shoulder,” he told her quietly.

Professor Flitwick walked up to the conductor’s podium. He gave a swift bow to the room before turning to face his orchestra, raising his hands and wand to begin.

Holly could feel a wave of nausea being pushed back once Terence began taking the first few steps of the waltz. She let herself relax somewhat, safe knowing he knew what to do. Fleur was doing the same task with Terry, the boy kept stumbling in an effort to keep her face in his view. Theo, Handan and Viktoria seemed to have no problem with their own partners, and Holly even swore she heard Viktoria laugh at something Heracles had said.

Eventually the tune came to an end, and the dance with it. Professor Flitwick bowed again, though this time his orchestra bowed with him.

On the far side of the dance floor was a long table behind which sat Professor Dumbledore and the other heads of the difference schools, along with the teachers. Theo led the way to the seats reserved for the champions and their partners.

Holly found herself seated between Terence and Fleur, opposite Theo and his partner. Looking up and down the table, Holly saw that there were none of the usual platters and serving bowls that normally sat on tables during mealtimes; instead there was a small menu in front of each person.

Professor Dumbledore took the lead, picking up his menu and scanning it.

“I think I shall go for the roast duck with carrots, peas and mashed potato,” he said to no one in particular.

At once, a plate of that description appeared between the knife and fork in front of him. Holly’s eyes widened in comprehension. Looking down at her own menu, she scanned the options for something she liked.

“Erm, I’d like the roast chicken, roast potatoes and vegetables,” she said, prompting a favourite dish of hers to appear in on the table before her.

“I like what they’ve done to the place,” Theo commented on the icicled candles that floated above them.

“Yes, eet eez nice zat ‘Ogwarts tries to match Beauxbatons sometimes,” Fleur said snootily.

“What do you mean?” Terence asked.

“Zees is normal at Beauxbatons, ze grand hall is decorated differently every day,” she explained.

Holly stopped listening once they began comparing notes on their schools’ celebratory calendar.

Professor Dumbledore was talking with Headman Talit.

“No, I doubt that even I know all of Hogwarts’s secrets, Ugar,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is the headmaster not informed of anything, Albus?” Headman Talit said in mock horror.

“I’m afraid not, my dear friend,” he lamented. “Why, only yesterday I was making my way along the fourth-floor corridor in the west wing, in dire need of relief, when a door I had never noticed before appeared beside me leading to a rather splendid lavatory. I’ve tried to find it since then, but to no avail. Perhaps it only appears at certain times, such as when one requires use of facilities.” Holly struggled to hold back snorts of mirth. “So, you see, there are still many secrets I remain ignorant of,” concluded Professor Dumbledore.

As the meal drew to a close, Holly tucking into a meringue, Professor Flitwick excused himself to return to his podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” his voice floated across the great hall. “There will now be a selection of dances for your enjoyment.”

“I think that’s our cue, Holly,” Terence chided her into finishing the meringue.

By the time she and Terence got back onto the dance floor, the waltz music had already begun. This time, many others joined in. Holly saw Ronnie being reluctantly led by Seamus, Farsi was being spun by Neville, while Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall commanded the floor.

Holly was feeling at ease as she allowed Terence to lead them up and down.

“Have you figured out the clue yet?” She asked.

“Not yet, Theo said he might have an idea,” Terence replied. “He said he’d get back to me if it worked.”

“Sounds mysterious,” she said the dance came to an end. “I think I need to sit down, these heels aren’t doing my feet favours.”

“Fair enough, I think your friend Weasley is over there,” Terence pointed over to where Ronnie was sat with a rather exasperated Seamus. “I’ll get us some punch, hopefully the Weasley twins haven’t spiked it.”

Ronnie glanced up when she came over.

“Having fun?” It wasn’t really a question.

“More than you, I reckon,” she replied. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ronnie said curtly.

“Well if there’s nothin’ wrong then I’m gonna talk to Dean,” Seamus cried, throwing his arms in the air.

“Something is definitely wrong, Ronnie, you can’t hide that from me,” Holly told her, folding her arms as she sat down beside her.

“I’m just not a good dancer.”

“Neither am I but it’s not getting me down.”

Terence returned with three glasses of punch.

“I thought you might some punch,” he offered them each a glass. Holly took a small sip from hers, tasting the red berries slip across her tongue.

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“No problem. I’m glad I got there when I did - the Weasley twins have just spiked it,” he chuckled, sipping from his own glass.

“Th-thanks Terence,” Ronnie said in a small voice.

He shook his head. “A friend of Holly’s is a friend of mine,” he told her. “Besides, it would have been rude not to.” Some of the Slytherins Holly recognised from before the ball started waved at Terence from another table. “If you’ll excuse me, I think some friends want to talk. I hope you won’t feel bad all evening Ronnie. If I don’t see you later, Holly, thanks for coming with me. I hope your night goes well.”

Striding off to the table, Terence avoided a clearly tipsy Hagrid and Madam Maxine.

“How does he know I’m feeling down?!” Ronnie exclaimed.

“It’s written all over your face,” Holly sighed. “D’you wanna take a walk, take your mind off it?”

“Maybe after some songs, I don’t need to be a good dancer for this band,” Ronnie replied, pointing to the stage where the orchestra had been replaced with a four-piece band. “The saxophone player is really good.”

Ronnie tugged Holly back towards the dance floor.

“Hello Hogwarts!” The saxophone player yelled over the microphone. “We are the Magic Quartet, we’re gonna play some songs for ya!”

At once they struck up a tune, the double bass and bass guitar laying down a funky beat which the saxophone and trumpet played over. Ronnie grinned giddily with glee, leading Holly into the centre of the throng that now crowded the dance floor.

Holly found herself being jostled by a bunch of Ilvermorny students, Ronnie pressed against her side. In spite of this, Holly was having fun, finding that the music washing over her was helping her to forget her troubles.

“These guys are amazing!” Hamish cried. He had bopped his way over to them with Katie Bell.

“I love them!” Ronnie shouted over the noise.

“Me too!” Katie agreed in equal volume.

Holly felt as if they had danced for years when they emerged from the crowded dance floor. She chuckled on seeing Filch dancing with Mrs Norris, though stopped when he noticed and gave her his usual death glare.

She and Ronnie made their way out of the great hall and into the quad. Snow had covered the ground in several inches, so they opted to walk along the sheltered gallery.

“Feeling better yet?” Holly asked.

“A little,” Ronnie admitted.

Before Holly could say anything else however, they heard Hagrid’s voice.

Sensing that this wasn’t something they should be privy to, Holly pushed Ronnie into an alcove.

“Yeah, so my da’ wus tiny, me ma’ was tha’ stood out.”

Madam Maxine was with him. “So, you are saying zat…”

“Yup, ‘alf-gian’ n all righ’ ‘ere,” Hagrid said proudly.

Ronnie tapped her shoulder, gesturing that they should go the other way. Holly nodded in agreement, and they turned back. They had just gone past the doors, and were heading along the opposite side of the gallery, when another pair of voices interrupted them.

It was Snape and Karkaroff.

“Why aren’t you worried, Severus?!” Karkaroff asked angrily.

“It has burned before, and he did not return, so I see no reason to worry,” Snape replied coolly, marching up the centre of the quad to the row of carriages that had carried the guests up to the castle. Holly bunched her dress into her hands and copied Ronnie in crouching down beside the wall of the gallery, their heads poking above it to see what was happening. “Besides, I have been here earning vital knowledge which he may put to use. I have been useful,” Snape wrenched open the door to one of the carriages, revealing two rather flustered Ravenclaws. “Fulwenth, Higgins, that’s fifty points from Ravenclaw from each of you and two nights detention.”

The girl scrambled to get out of the carriage, muttering apologies. The boy struggled to rebutton his trousers, face flushed. He glared at when he fell out of the carriage and ran after the girl.

Despite the braziers lighting the gallery, Holly realised a chill had settled in, goosebumps raised along both arms. A small breath of wind sent her shivering, her dress no match for the winter cold.

“L-let’s g-go in-side,” she chattered.

“Y-yeah,” Ronnie mercifully agreed.

Their walk back to the great hall was decidedly less relaxed than that out of it, as they both decided they would much rather be warm than elegant and cold. This was ended by the last thing Holly had expected to see.

On a bench at the end of the gallery they had just walked, sat Hamish and another boy. That wasn’t what occupied Holly’s attention however. It was difficult to say where one began and the other ended, as Hamish’s lips were locked into the other boy’s.

Holly was thankful the pair were too occupied to notice them as Ronnie dragged her back into the entrance hall.

She barely had time to process the image she had just seen, when Ronnie cried out.

“I should’ve bloody known!”

“Oh, good evening Ronnie, how are you?” Heracles asked nonchalantly.

“I was fine until I saw you kissing her!” She cried.

Viktoria was still stood there, hands holding Heracles’s. She looked confused by what was happening. Holly shot her a sympathetic glance.

“I see you later, Her-acklees,” she told him.

“Yes,” he turned his attention back to her. “Thank you for accompanying me to the ball, I hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You’re fraternising with the enemy!” Ronnie hissed, stalking up to him.

“The enemy? Only yesterday you were still gushing about her,” Heracles said condescendingly. “Isn’t this tournament about “forging the international alliances”, and making friends?!”

Thus began the long tirade Holly was forced to listen to on the back to the common room. Her mind was debating different things, however: the meaning behind Hagrid saying he was half-giant, something she had always suspected; and Hamish kissing the boy. And what did the conversation between Snape and Karkaroff mean?


	14. Hamish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excited for the folk music festival this weekend, 3 days of good music, silly games and inebriation-I mean drinking responsible amounts of lemonade. I've got a few more chapters in the bank, so I'll be posting them next week

**Hamish**

Hamish yawned as he slipped his feet into his slippers, stretching his arms above his head. He had slept fitfully, something he put down to the twins’ spiked punch. Though he hadn’t had enough to cause any ill effects, he was sure the one cup he had had was behind his confidence the night before. Heracles was already stepping out of the bathroom when he threw on his oversized hoodie.

“Merry Christmas, Hamish,” he smiled, rubbing out some sleep before wrapping his dressing gown around him.

“You too,” Hamish said. “How was yer night?”

“It was great, Viktoria was really quite pleasant company, if a little quiet,” he told him. “I lost track of you after the third dance.”

Hamish blinked, remembering he hadn’t told anyone about Iolo.

“I needed some air,” he explained as they made their way to the door. “I think it might’ve been somethin’ Fred and George put in the punch.”

The common room was full of people; unlike most years when the majority of people went home for Christmas and Hamish and his friends had it to themselves, this year everyone who had been to the Ball was unwrapping a handful of presents.

“Over here,” Holly’s voice called to them, pulling their attention to a corner of the room with several plush armchairs. She and Ronnie were sat with a small pile of presents, Hamish noted his were at the top of each. “We brought yours from under the tree,” she gestured towards one of the Christmas trees at the other side of the common room.

“Thanks,” said Hamish, grateful he wouldn’t have to clamber over the fifth years occupying the space.

While they sat unwrapping their gifts, Hamish mulled over the previous night’s events in his mind. He had to tell someone what had happened, it was too much for him alone.

Merlin’s beard, I kissed him, he thought.

Holly would know what to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ronnie or Heracles, but he wasn’t sure how Ronnie would take the news that he liked a boy, and Hamish didn’t feel up to a forensic analysis from Heracles.

Raised voices brought his attention to the present, Heracles and Ronnie were arguing again.

“The whole point of this tournament is to make friends!” Heracles cried.

“You’re spoiling Holly’s chances of winning!” Ronnie shouted back. The two were clearly not listening to each other’s points.

Seizing his chance, Hamish sidled up to Holly.

“Can we talk?” He asked. “In private, it’s important.”

“Sure,” Holly replied, seeing the urgency in his face.

Hamish led the way out of the common room, he knew there would be plenty of empty classrooms on the sixth floor. He kept the door open to the one they found first, taking a seat on one of the desks, Holly facing him. She tugged her new dressing gown tighter over her green Weasley jumper.

“What’s up?” She asked expectantly.

Hamish paused for a moment, staring down at the floor.

“It’s, complicated,” he said at last. Now that he had got to the point he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “It all started at the beginning of the year. Ye remember I’ve been hangin’ out a lot with Ravenclaws?”

“Yeah, for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes?”

“Well, to be honest it was mainly because of someone,” Hamish admitted. “And they came to the Ball with me. I don’t regret that, I jus’,” he faltered.

Holly placed a hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I like boys,” he blurted out.

The silence was thick enough to require a saw to cut through it. Hamish looked down again, fearful to see Holly’s reaction.

“Hamish?” She asked, causing him to raise his head. “It’s ok.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is,” she laughed softly. “What did you think I was gonna do? You’re one of my best friends.” Hamish felt a smile grace his face. “I appreciate you telling me, does anyone else know?”

“Thanks Holly,” he said, embracing Holly in a tight hug. “No just you and me so far, I didn’t want to tell the other two yet.”

Holly snorted. “Especially with their arguing over everything these days. So can I ask the name of this mystery boy?”

“He’s called Iolo,” Hamish said as he sat next to her.

“Are you gonna see him again?”

“I dunno yet,” he admitted. “Do you think I should?”

“Don’t see why not,” she answered. “See where it leads.”

“Yeah, ok, I will,” Hamish said with deep breaths, his nerves tingling. “Could you not mention this to Cles or Ronnie? I’ll tell them in my own time.”

“I won’t say a word,” she promised.

Hamish was about to ask how her own night had gone, when the door opened suddenly. Ginny was breathing heavily, having seemingly run from the common room.

“Oh hey Hamish,” she greeted before turning to Holly. “Holly there’s a Terence looking for you, he’s waiting outside the common room, said it was urgent.”

“Oh it’ll be something to do the golden egg,” Holly said happily. “We’ll be there in a minute if you tell him Ginny.”

Hamish noticed Ginny deflate a little. “O-ok, yeah I’ll tell him. Be seeing you Holly, Hamish.”

“We probably shouldn’t keep him waitin’ forever,” said Hamish once Ginny’s footsteps had faded.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said, sliding off the desk.

Terence was leaning against the wall when they got back to the portrait hole.

“Holly, Merry Christmas,” he smiled as they approached, kicking off the wall to greet them.

“Merry Christmas Terence, this is my friend Hamish,” Holly replied, introducing him.

“Merry Christmas to you, Holly has mentioned you before but it’s a pleasure to meet you in the flesh,” Terence shook his hand. He turned to Holly, ready for business. “Theo’s figured out the egg, the screaming you hear when you open it becomes a song when underwater.”

“Oh, great,” Holly said, clearly unsure what to make of the knowledge.

“Exactly, Viktoria, Fleur, Handan and I are going to the Prefect’s bathroom tomorrow night to hear what it says,” he said. “You should come along; technically we’re not supposed to go there, but my friend is a prefect and he’s given me the password. I also hear something about you having an invisibility cloak.”

“I might have one,” Holly said evasively, prompting Hamish to grin. “What time is this gonna be?”

“After dinner tomorrow night, at eight,” Terence replied. “I’ll see you then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Bye,  Terence,” she waved him off.

“So a wee late night bath eh?” Hamish nudged her in the ribs.

“Very funny,” Holly rolled her eyes. “Let’s go inside, maybe those two will have finished their argument.”


	15. Ronnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from a festival, and my proofreader's sent a slew of chapters my way. As I'm fairly busy over the next few weeks, now seems like an ideal opportunity to publish them as a set.

**Ronnie**

In spite of the feast the night before, Ronnie still found she had room for two turkey toasties and several hash browns at breakfast.

“I don’t understand where it all goes,” said Farsi incredulously.

“Ronnie has hollow legs,” Hamish snickered. “She’s jus’ fillin’ them with food.”

“It’s been twelve hours since the feast, I’m entitled to sustenance,” she rolled her eyes as Holly chortled.

Heracles frowned. “Am I the only one who’s noticed Hagrid’s missing?”

Ronnie looked up to the high table, their friend was indeed not sitting in his usual spot, or anywhere else in the great hall.

“Maybe he’s still in bed?” Ronnie suggested.

“That might not be so funny an idea,” Heracles ended the snorting. “I overheard some Hufflepuffs talking about Rita Skeeter’s newsletter.”

“She has a newsletter?” Asked Farsi.

“It’s for some of the crazier gossip even the Prophet won’t publish,” Heracles explained. “In it she said Hagrid was a half-giant. So he’s probably in his cabin, a lot of people will sadly believe everything that vile woman writes, hiding from the bad press.”

“We ought to go see him,” said Ronnie through a mouthful of hash brown.

“Agreed,” Heracles wrinkled his nose.

Once they had finished eating, Ronnie and her friends ran back to get changed into some warmer clothes. Having already dressed before breakfast, Ronnie waited for Holly to put on the tartan skirt Hamish’s mother had bought her for Christmas.

“You gonna be warm enough in that?” Ronnie asked.

“That’s why I’m wearing my tights Ronnie,” Holly rolled her eyes, slipping her arms into the jumper Ronnie’s mum had knitted. “Besides, I’ll bet Hagrid lets us in.”

This proved to be true, Hagrid grudgingly let them inside.

“I don’t why yeh came, I’m fine, ‘onest,” he grumbled.

“We know what Skeeter’s written about you,” said Holly. “We’re on your side.”

“I jus’ don’ understand ‘ow she found out ‘n’ all,” he said in exasperation, sitting down with a thump.

“In any case Hagrid, you’ll only make it worse if you stay here,” Heracles told him.

“I’m not going out there with all tha’ whisperin’,” he said adamantly.

“Hagrid if you act like this you’ll only cause more suspicion,” Heracles sighed. “Go out and act normal and people will stop talking.”

“Yeh think?”

“He’s right,” Ronnie patted Hagrid’s shoulder gently. “The longer you stay here the more people will think it’s true.”

“And so what if it is true?” Holly asked rhetorically. “Dumbledore thinks you’re amazing, so do we, isn’t that right Farsi?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded, causing Ronnie to smile in appreciation.

“It doesn’t matter what others think, they’re stupid and gullible,” Ronnie told him.

“Alrigh’, I’ll go outside” Hagrid nodded in understanding. “I ‘preciate you comin’ teh talk ‘bout it. I’m gonna see wha’ Professor Dumbledore thinks ‘bout it.”

“No worries Hagrid, it’s what friends do,” Hamish smiled. “Are ye sure ye’ll be alrigh’?”

“I’ll be fine so long as Holly wins this tournament,” Hagrid replied with a chuckle.

“I’ll try my best,” Holly grinned.

“Atta girl,” Hagrid embraced her. Ronnie bit her tongue at Holly’s pained expression, her friend would need some bruise salve after that. “Now go on with ya, it’s a Hogsmeade weeken’.”

They emerged from Hagrid’s hut smiling, glad to know their mutual friend wouldn’t spend the day moping about his cabin.

The walk down to Hogsmeade was fairly uneventful apart from the sight of a group of third years engaged in a furious snowball fight. The excitement picked up however, when Ludo Bagman accosted them outside The Three Broomsticks.

“Holly, good to see you! Great job tackling that dragon,” he beamed. “Listen, I know it’s technically bending the rules, but you are the youngest champion by far; allow me to help out with the next challenge.”

“It’s ok Mr Bagman, I think I’ll manage,” Holly smiled.

“If you say so Holly,” he said, shoulders slumping.

“Is everything alright Mr Bagman?” Ronnie asked curiously.

Gesturing to the pavement, Ludo Bagman sighed heavily as they joined him.

“If I’m being honest, no,” he said. “Barty Crouch has stopped coming to work, we aren’t sure what’s happening, no one’s seen him since before the Yule Ball. I trust you lot can keep this information to yourselves; we don’t need any bad press as things are. Truth be told, he was the real driving force that helped keep things running smoothly.”

“Ye can count on us Mr Bagman,” Hamish said confidently.

“Thank you,” his lips thinned into a grim smile. “Anyway, I must be off. Don’t let me spoil your day.”

Ludo Bagman trundled off up the road up to Hogwarts.

“I think I owe a reappraisal of that man,” said Heracles. “It can’t be easy being in his position.”

After spending some time in The Three Broomsticks, the group moved down the street. The flash of a camera interrupted them, cuing the appearance of Rita Skeeter. Ronnie felt Farsi and Holly bristle beside her.

“Well well, well, what a happy coincidence,” she purred with as much sweetness as a sour lemon. “I was just thinking about you and your friends Holly, and what a night you must have had at the Yule Ball. Would you mind answering a few questions my readers are dying to ask?”

“The short answer is no,” Holly said defensively.

“That’s alright dear, I can always ask your friend Heracles about his liaison with Viktoria Krum.”

“I shan’t be party to vile, malicious and deceitful tales,” said Heracles with equal venom. “I don’t know how you can live calling yourself a journalist with all the lies you publish!”

“What can I say, the public loves gossip,” she smirked.

“Why don’t you crawl back to hole you came from?” Farsi snarled.

“Oh I could certainly get a scoop from you dear, your treatment of Turkish soldiers would elicit a scandal for your Headman Talit,” Rite Skeeter grinned devilishly.

“Leave her out of this ye cow,” Hamish stepped in front of Farsi.

“My my, no need to be so tetchy my dear Hamish, you had a very good time at the Yule Ball did you not?” The glint in Rita Skeeter’s eye must have caught Hamish off-guard, as the colour drained from his face.

Before another word could be said, Ronnie grabbed the back of his jumper and began leading him and the others back.

“We’re leaving,” she said abruptly before anyone could object.

Once they had crossed the threshold into Hogwarts’ ground, Heracles piped up.

“She’s going to write another article about us, isn’t she?”

“Probably,” said Farsi.


	16. Holly

**Holly**

Curfew was just beginning when Holly slipped out of the Gryffindor common room, wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak. Her golden egg was safely tucked under her arm. Using the Marauder’s Map to avoid prefects and patrolling teachers, she arrived without hiccup at the prefects’ bathroom.

“H-hello,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper for fear of alerting Filch.

“We’re all here, Holly,” Terence’s voice surprised her.

Her fellow champions removed their Disillusionment charms, prompting Holly to take off the Invisibility Cloak.

“Woah, is that an invisibility cloak?” Theo gasped.

“Yeah, my dad’s,” replied Holly.

“Ve can ask Holly about her cloak later,” Viktoria said quickly. “After ve get into zis room.”

“ _Semper vigilantes,_ ” said Terence to the portrait of the mermaid.

It opened slowly, revealing the bathroom within. One by one, the champions clambered into the chamber, taking in the sea-related paintings. In the centre was a large sunken bathtub in the shape of a clam shell, in the middle rose an orchestra of pipes and taps. Two tiled partitions on either side of the room hid changing areas where Holly found several sets of bathing costumes.

“Did you forget yours too?” Handan asked her upon joining her behind the female partition.

Holly nodded.

“This place is so cool,” Theo could be heard saying.

“It eez like Beauxbatons,” Fleur commented, already removing clothes to reveal a silver one-piece.

Not wanting to be waited on, Holly selected a modest swimming costume, slipping into the single cubicle to get changed. She emerged to find everyone had already entered the warm water which was a pleasant shade of purple. Their eggs were laid on towels behind them.

“We might as well enjoy the luxuries while we’re here,” Terence said as way of explanation for turning on a tap that emitted a stream of bubbles.

Holly laughed as she slid in, gently placing her egg on the side.

“So I managed to get some words from my egg when I put it underwater,” Theo began. “But I think because it was only my egg, the song was incomplete.”

“So not only is it an exercise in curiosity, but in co-operation with fellow champions,” Handan nodded in approval.

“Song?” Holly asked in unison with Viktoria.

“It’s hard to explain, probably easier if we all put our heads and eggs under the water together,” Theo shrugged.

Following his suggestion, the group took their eggs and put them into the bath, dunking their heads under after a deep breath. Holly scrunched her eyes shut to avoid getting any water into them.

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing on the ground,_

_And while you’re searching ponder this:_

_What we’ve taken you’ll surely miss,_

_An hour long you’ll have to look,_

_To recover what we took,_

_But past an hour the prospect’s black,_

_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back._

Holly nearly leapt out of the bath, so fast did her bead break the surface to catch her breath back. The champions breathing was all that filled the air for a few moments.

“Ve haff to fetch somezing in an hour?” Viktoria asked rhetorically.

“And eet sounds like an hour sous- sorry, underwater,” Fleur added.

“A Bubblehead Charm could certainly help with the breathing issue,” Handan suggested.

“Yeah, the next challenge will be finding suitable means of remaining submerged for that time,” said Terence. “I just wonder what they’ll take from us.”

The group spent a few more minutes enjoying the warmth of the bath and brainstorming ideas of what would be taken and how they would retrieve it. Eventually however, the water grew cold and they were forced to end their discussion.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Terence bid them all good night.

Once they had all left, Holly threw the Invisibility Cloak around her and pulled out the Marauder’s Map to begin the walk back to her bed. The walk back was going well until Holly glanced at the map to find the name Barty Crouch Jr. hovering in one of Professor Snape’s stores. But Barty Crouch Jr. was in Azkaban; something wasn’t right.

In her surprise, Holly realised too late that the golden egg was slipping from her grasp. It hit the floor with a clunk, immediately letting out an ear-splitting screech as its lock came undone. Quick as a flash, Holly swept up with egg into her arms, fumbling with the lock until it was securely back in place.

The damage was done however, and within moments she was trapped by the presence of Filch and Snape at either end of the corridor.

“Ah Professor, I suppose you ‘eard that noise too,” Filch grinned, always pleased with the prospect of handing out a detention.

“One of the champions’ eggs,” Snape surmised coldly, his cloak billowing as the two met each other metres from where Holly stood huddled under the Cloak. “Presumably one of them is out of bed and not far.”

“So I wasn’t imaginin’ things eh?” A voice growled. Professor Moody stepped out of the shadows to join them.

“Professor Moody, I was under the impression that I was on patrol tonight,” Snape sneered.

“That’s as may be Severus, but you don’t have a magical eye that can see through enchantments,” Professor Moody growled. Holly stiffened as the electric blue eye settled on her briefly. “Why don’t you get back to your patrol and I’ll find this interloper.”

Snape must have seen something he didn’t like, for he signalled Filch to follow him.

“I can see you girl, you can come out now they’re gone,” Professor Moody turned to face her. Knowing the game was up, Holly took off the Cloak. “That’s a nice Invisibility Cloak you’ve got there Potter, take care of that. Most lose their charms after a while, but I can tell that one’ll last.”

“I am in detention professor?” Holly asked, taken aback by his compliment.

“Nah, there won’t be any need,” he said gruffly. “But don’t go wondering about at night too much, not until you’re properly trained. As a matter of fact, hope you don’t mind me taking a look at that map of yours?”

“Er no,” replied Holly, handing the Map to Professor Moody.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, studying its detail. “Think I’m gonna need to take this for further study Potter, don’t worry, I won’t damage it.”

Holly nodded mutely, still processing that she wasn’t being given a detention.

“Go on now, you should get some sleep Potter,” he said, his electric blue eye pointing towards Gryffindor tower.

“Thanks Professor,” she said, flipping the hood of the Cloak back onto her head and nearly running back to the common room.

)(

It was late at night when Hamish, Ronnie and Heracles left Holly in the library, having failed to find a way for her to stay underwater for an hour. The only other person she could see was Dracia Malfoy on the other side of the room, her pale, pointed face was focused on the book she was reading.

For a moment, Holly considered going over for some company before deciding against it. While Malfoy had been keeping her distance of late, something Holly put down to the influence of one of the Anatolian students, Holly did not feel incurring snide remarks was worth the trouble.

Perhaps Ronnie was right, she should take a small nap to clear her head. The library was after all, quite warm. Holly felt her lids grow heavy, sleep was catching up to her.

The next thing she knew, a small hand was shaking her head.

“Mistress Potter, is you awake?” Dobby asked from where he sat on the pile of books by her.

“Wha- what time is it?” Holly asked groggily.

“It is only ten minutes past midnight,” Dobby said reassuringly, his batlike ears flapping up and down. “I has been sent to tell Mistress Potter to go to bed and to give her this,” he presented a ball of green slime.

“Er Dobby, what is that?” Holly asked dubiously.

“Gillyweed, is Mistress Potter eats this before the task starts she will be able to breathe underwater for an hour,” he explained happily.

“Dobby are you sure you haven’t been eating cheese again?”

“Dobby is certain he has not been eating the cheese.”

Before Holly could so much as argue, Dobby had thrust the Gillyweed into her hand and began pushing her out of the library.

)(

The wind ruffled Holly’s hair as she and the other champions stepped into the boats, doing its best to rid the sleep from her eyes. Once they were all in, the boat began its journey to the platforms at the centre of the lake.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the tournament second task,” Lee Jordan’s voice echoed. “In this task, something has been taken from our champions and lies at the bottom of the lake. They must retrieve it before the hour is up.”

Holly glanced at her fellow champions, all looked grim at the prospect of not retrieving their goal. Handan’s eyes were closed as she recited a chant quietly to herself. Viktoria clutched the sides of the boat, her knuckles were white with tension.

Holly followed Theo, stepping out of the boat and climbing the wooden steps up to the main platform. It was tiered, the champions occupying the bottom tier which had a side without any railing, clearly where they were expected to dive into the lake. Holly spotted Hamish with who she assumed was Iolo. He gave her a thumbs up.

Terence was already out of his normal clothes, a skintight top accompanying his shorts. Holly realised she was staring a little too hard and snapped her head to the other side, cheeks reddened. Fleur and Handan were also changed into bathing suits. Holly shivered as she too removed her shorts and Weasley jumper. Her fingers wrapped around the bundle of gillyweed Dobby had given her the night before were turning blue.

 “Now that all our champions are ready, on the sound of the cannon their hour to search for their treasures will begin,” Lee announced.

Professor Moody sidled up to Holly.

“Have you got the gillyweed?” He asked gruffly.

“I- yeah, how-?”

“Put it in your mouth before the cannon sounds,” he interrupted her.

Holly did as he said, feeling the gillyweed slide down her throat. Before she could express her disgust at what had passed her lips, there was a bang as Filch lit the cannon’s temperamental fuse.

The champions ran towards the edge of the platform, Fleur and Handan opting to perform dives whilst Terence, Theo and Viktoria simply leapt forwards. Holly meanwhile, suddenly battling the fire in her lungs, decided to flop off the edge with all the grace of an anaesthetised elephant.

The water hit her with force, knocking the remaining air from her lungs and pricking her skin with thousands of icy needles. Holly panicked, and began to swim back towards the surface to grab another lungful of air. She stopped when she realised that a pair of gills had grown on her neck. Amazed, Holly took a moment to touch them.

Focus, she thought seriously. She was wasting time and had yet to come close to finding her treasure. Knowing it was somewhere at the bottom of the lake, Holly flipped herself around and dived downwards. Without meaning to, Holly felt herself going faster as she kicked her legs. Glancing behind her revealed that her feet had changed into something more akin to the flippers she had seen in Hamish’s house.

After a while, she came to a forest of kelp. Great tall fronds reached up to meet her and tickle her stomach. Holly concentrated on swimming. Eventually, the forest thinned, and Holly was swimming over a deep crevasse. Distantly, she heard singing and headed towards the sound.

_Come seek us where our voices sound._

Holly approached a derelict-looking city, empty windows and broken walls stared back at her. Swimming down what was once an avenue, Holly arrived at a junction where she turned left towards a ruined citadel.

_An hour long you’ll have to look_

A plaza opened before her, showing the source of the singing to be the choir of merpeople to one side. In the centre, tied to rope affixed to a large boulder were six figures. These were the treasures the champions had to retrieve. Already, Holly could see Theo had cut one of the ropes and grabbed hold of his person.

Kicking hard, she swam towards the centre.

Ronnie, she thought. Her best friend was tied by the foot to one of the ropes remaining, her orange hair floated above her and her ears were markedly pale.

Before she untied Ronnie, Holly looked around to see Terence and Handan making their way to the centre of the plaza. Terence gestured to his watch, indicating that they did not have much time left to get back to the surface.

“Where’s Fleur?” She asked in a mouthful of bubbles.

Handan shrugged, whipping out a short knife which she used to cut the rope tying her friend to the boulder. Terence used his wand to retrieve his own friend.

The merpeople fell silent, prompting Holly to look around for a disturbance. It came in the shape of Viktoria semi-metamorphosed into a shark. She barrelled past Handan and bit through her captive’s rope. Holly realised Heracles was being rescued by her fellow champion.

That explains why wasn’t he on the platform, Holly thought, ruefully wishing she had noticed his disappearance earlier.

Handan, Terence and Viktoria had left by the time Holly’s attention returned to the captives. She had Ronnie, but it did not look as if Fleur would be coming for her captive soon.

Whipping out her wand, Holly used a Cutting Curse to sever Ronnie’s rope before doing the same for the final captive. The merpeople hissed at this, but Holly only pointed her wand at them threateningly which seemed to frighten them long enough for an escape.

Taking them both by the arms, Holly began to ascend. Her legs pumped back and forth with the effort of moving an additional two people to the surface. Nevertheless, the water became clearer and clearer, and soon the surface was in sight.

It was at that moment that Holly felt a firm pair of spindly fingers snap shut around her ankles. Looking down she saw more grindylow joining the first. Without thinking, Holly pushed the captives upwards. The situation grew desperate as the gills which had sustained Holly began to recede into her neck, soon she would be relying on a handful of air in her lungs. A second pair of spindly hands latched onto her calves.

As the light faded, Holly remembered the advice of the careworn Professor Lupin. He had told them how brittle grindylow fingers were. She reached down and grabbed the second grindylow’s hand, an abrupt twist was followed by a sharp crack and the fingers snapped like twigs. The second grindylow howled in pain and released, only to be joined by two more.

Holly had had enough, drawing her wand, she pointed at the surface.

 _“Ascendio!”_ The grindylows were coming up whether they liked it or not.

She flew through the water, and then the air, grindylows clinging on for dear life. Holly landed with a wet thud on the platform.

 _“Relashio!”_ A pair of brittle hands were released.

 _“Expulso!”_ The final two grindylows were flung back into the lake.

“Holly are ye alrigh’?!” Hamish asked her hurriedly, throwing a towel over her shivering form.

“I-I-I’m f-fine,” she smiled weakly, grateful for his and Terence’s arms helping her to stand. “Where’s Fleur?”

“I am ‘ere,” she replied, wrapping Holly in a firm hug. “Zank you for saving my sister.”

“It’s alr-right, it’s what-t f-friends do,” Holly shivered back.

“You ok, Holly? You were gone a long time,” Handan asked.

She nodded.

“Well, all of our champions are back out of the water, let’s see how they scored,” Lee Jordan announced. “Handan Malik leads with 85 points using the Bubblehead Charm, Theo Gilgarry follows with 83 having used a Breathe potion,” there was a pause as the judges decided what to award Viktoria and Terence. “Viktoria Krum and Terence Higgs tie for joint third with 79 points,” Lee announced. “The judges commend Viktoria’s daring use of a Transfiguration spell and the Bubblehead Charm respectively.”

Holly was glad for Hamish and Handan’s shoulders, her legs were beginning to shake as she processed everything that had happened.

“And joining Theo Gilgarry with 83 points, Holly Potter, who technically broke the rules bringing back two captives and exceeding the time limit,” Holly laughed with Hamish at the information, breaking the rules was hardly new for her. “However the judges commend her for her determination and outstanding moral fibre.”

At this, the champions surrounded Holly in a group hug, Theo smothering Hamish as well much to Holly’s amusement.

The journey back to the castle was far more enjoyable than that leaving it, particularly after Holly noticed Professor Dumbledore smiling over his scoreboard. The headmaster gave her a quick wink over his half-moon spectacles before being dragged back into a heated argument with Karkaroff. Snickers of “moral fibre” were accompanied by shouts of ecstasy as the champions let loose their remaining energy in celebration.

“Well done everyone,” said Terence as they stepped out of the boat. “Two down, one to go.”

“You said it,” Theo grinned.

Holly smiled. “Yeah, hope we can do something similar for the last task.”

“You bet,” Theo agreed.


	17. Ronnie

**Ronnie**

It had been a month since the second task and a fortnight since the start of the new term, but Ronnie still wasn’t used to the early mornings. Neither was Holly from the way Parvati was shaking her friend awake as well.

“You guys are gonna miss breakfast,” she told them as she closed the door to the dorms.

“Not if we don’t shower,” Holly gave Ronnie a sly look.

“You haven’t showered in a week Holly,” Ronnie wrinkled her nose.

“Which is why I’ve been practicing those cleaning charms Sirius sent me,” Holly cackled.

It was true the spells prevented the pair looking too dirty, even if they had to redo them every two hours or so before they wore off.

Down in the great hall, Ronnie found they had not missed out greatly on food. The only development that required explaining was the inordinate amount of letters piled in front of Heracles.

“Did we get anything in the mail?” Holly asked.

“Jus’ yer copy of mum’s newspaper,” Hamish replied. “She thinks ye ought to be informed.”

“Probably beats the Prophet,” Heracles joked wryly. “Skeeter decided to write an article about me in that rather than her newsletter.”

“And that’s fanmail?” Ronnie giggled, sitting down to grab a piece of toast and lather it with jam.

“Hatemail sadly,” Heracles shook his head. “She said I was toying with Holly and Viktoria’s hearts, leading them on. I’m not opening them because Hamish told me some might contain Bubotuber Pus or worse.”

“Thanks, I prefer your face as it is,” Ronnie snorted.

A loud bang sounded from the entrance hall as Heracles began sorting through his mail with sudden interest. The twins were evidently testing one of their new products, some sort of toaster that shot out confetti. Ronnie snickered as she heard Professor McGonagall shouting her anger at the pair.

“We should go before we’re late,” Hamish said abruptly. “Don’t need to give Snape any more excuses.”

“Do we have to?” Holly groaned.

Despite their moaning, the four duly trooped past Filch sweeping up the confetti, down to the dungeons for another arduous lesson with Snape. The lesson was particularly unpleasant as Snape was handing back marks on their essays, snidely reading out the worse marks.

“Weasley, another measly effort on your part. It seems even with the aid of two decent friends you are incapable of getting better,” he said as he tossed her essay in front of her. “Potter, why do I bother having you in this class,” was all he sneered at Holly as he did the same, curtain of greasy hair barely moving as he turned to the next table.

“Today you will be attempting to create a kin Salve in order to treat burns, rashes and other irritations,” Snape lazily flicked his wand at the blackboard, causing ingredients to write themselves. “The full instructions to this can be found on page thirty in your books.”

After class, Ronnie and Neville were scrubbing the cauldrons they had ruined with failed salve solutions. Neville’s round face was red with the effort he was putting into using his scourer. Snape had of course banned them from using magic to clean their mess.

The appearance of Karkaroff was a welcome distraction for Ronnie, who paused to wipe her brow and eavesdrop on what would be said.

“Severus?” He said as he went into Snape’s office.

“Yes what is it?” Snape snapped back.

“Ve need to talk.”

“If this is about your arm then it can wait.”

“It is about our arms and no, it cannot vait,” Karkaroff sounded desperate. “It’s getting stronger.”

The pair emerged, seeing both she and Neville were still there, Snape’s sallow face grimaced.

“You may go now,” he said coldly.

They scurried out before he could change his mind.

)(

“Can you explain why we’re going to Hogsmeade under your Cloak?” Ronnie asked again.

“So we don’t get caught obviously,” Holly sighed again. “Besides, don’t you want to hear what Sirius has to say?”

“Yeah, I just don’t get why she couldn’t tell us in a letter,” Ronnie replied.

“Good point,” said Holly. “So long as Cles doesn’t find out we’ll be fine,” she continued, referring to Heracles’ adamant protests that Sirius taking them to go dress shopping had been incredibly risky.

A large, scruffy black dog met them at the top of the high street.

“Hey Padfoot,” said Holly.

The dog bounded off up a hill, leading them to a cave. A fire was lit inside, surrounded by scraps of food, bones and a half-eaten sandwich. Sirius was sat on a rock, bundled up in a sleeping bag, her mane of black tumbling to her shoulders.

“Morning Holly, Ronnie, I thought Hamish was coming,” she said abruptly on seeing the pair emerge from under the Cloak.

“He’s busy today,” Holly said hurriedly, stepping over an empty pot. “He says hi though.”

“Ah well,” she shrugged. “What was it you wanted to know?”

“I was wondering if you know anything about Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman said he’d gone missing,” Holly asked.

“Gone missing? Since when?” Sirius looked troubled at the news.

“Around Christmas we think,” Ronnie told her. “He wasn’t at the Yule Ball.”

“And there I hoped we’d be talking about the Ball,” Sirius barked with laughter. “The first thing you should know is that Barty Crouch is a stickler for the law. He once sentenced his own son who was a convicted Death Eater. Just disappearing isn’t the sort of thing he’s likely to do.”

“You’re saying someone else is involved?” Ronnie asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but this is completely out of character,” Sirius replied.

“This isn’t the first time Crouch hasn’t appeared for something though,” Holly added. “He used his house elf Winky to reserve his seat at the World Cup but never showed up.”

“These events may be connected,” Sirius mused. “But there isn’t much I can do at the moment. The best I can do is to tell you two to stay out of trouble as best you can, I’m certain someone inside Hogwarts is trying to make life difficult for you. Be careful who you trust.”

)(

The Hogwarts kitchens were much the same when Ronnie and Holly entered. House elves were busy preparing the night’s meal, carrots were being chopped, potatoes parboiled and broths were being stirred.

“Mistress Ronnie!” Dobby cried with joy. “And Mistress Potter! It is always a pleasure to see you is doing well.”

“Hey Dobby,” Ronnie smiled. “Is Winky here? We need to ask her some questions.”

“Hey Dobby, Heracles told me to give you these socks,” Holly greeted him, passing what apparently passed for socks.

“Thanking Master Heracles,” Dobby beamed, his round bulblike eyes shining with happiness. “Winky is still doing the drinking, this way.”

He led them to the cupboard on which sat the depressed elf. From the way she swayed from side to side, Ronnie doubted they would get many answers from her.

“Hey Winky, how are you feeling? Holly asked kindly.

Winky hiccoughed. “I is fine,” she replied, lip trembling.

“Winky, we were hoping you could help us,” Ronnie began. “When you were saving Mr Crouch’s seat for him at the World Cup, did he say why?”

Winky let out a feeble sob. “Master Crouch was not saying anything about why, house elves is supposed to do as they is told,” she hiccoughed loudly. “All Master Crouch was saying is not to be telling people his secret.”

“Secret, what secret?” Ronnie asked.

“I is not telling!” Winky broke down into fitful sobbing.

“I don’t think we’ll get much more out of her,” Holly whispered to Ronnie. “We should just go.”

Ronnie nodded in agreement. “Erm, sorry for upsetting you Winky, we’re gonna go now.”

They back away slowly, wary of the glass bottle she held in her hand.

“Thanks for taking care of her Dobby,” Holly said, giving their friend a smile. “We’ll try and pop in again.”

“Bye Dobby,” Ronnie waved from the painting.

“Bye bye Mistress Potter, Mistress Ronnie,” Dobby waved back.


	18. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last of the chapters sent my way, hopefully you didn't go through them too quickly, as I'm not sure when there'll be another update ;P

**Holly**

The shadows were starting to lengthen when the champions were taken down to see the Quidditch pitch, or rather what had become of the Quidditch pitch. A charm had been used to expand the space within it for the growing bushes that would form a maze.

“Is this counted as sacrilege here at Hogvarts?” Viktoria asked jokingly.

“I think so,” Holly replied with a chuckle.

Ludo Bagman coughed to gain their attention. “As you’ve probably guessed, the third task will be based around a maze,” he began. “Your goal will be to retrieve the TriWizard Cup at its centre, which will be charmed as a Portkey to return you to the entrance.”

“What happens to the rest of us when the winner touches the Cup?” Asked Terence, accompanied by curious nodding from Theo and Handan.

“I have charmed the bushes so that they will diminish back to their present state,” explained Professor Sprout, gesturing to the scrubby bushes.

“However, this maze will also challenge your reflexes, cunning and spellwork,” Ludo Bagman flourished melodramatically. “Hagrid has kindly donated a few of his “pets” which you must subdue,” he waved in Hagrid’s direction, who returned a smile. Holly could only too well imagine Hagrid’s so-called pets were fit for a national park rather than a back garden. “And we have had loaned a few more,” Ludo Bagman took a dramatic deep breath. “Exotic beasts to test your skills.”

)(

On the walk back to the castle, Viktoria pulled Holly to one side, allowing the rest to carry on before she spoke.

“Holly, I know ve’re friends, so you vouldn’t lie to me,” she began.

“If this is about the article in the Prophet, then you ought to know it’s complete rubbish,” she replied. “I’ve only ever thought of Heracles as a friend, he’s more of a brother if anything.”

“You’re right off course, I hope you haven’t had to put up vith too much because of that voman,” Viktoria referred to Skeeter with a snarl.

“No, it’s been alright so far-” Holly was interrupted by the crack of a stick, as a haggard Barty Crouch appeared from behind a tree. “Mr Crouch?”

“Yes, yes, Dumbledore will want to know, he must!” Mr Crouch seemed to be in his own world as he talked to the tree. After a few moments of mumbling, he noticed the pair of them. “Miss Potter! Dumbledore, he needs to know!” He stumbled towards her, grasping her shoulders tightly.

“I don’t know the vay to Professor Dumbledore’s office,” said Viktoria decisively. “You go and I’ll take care of Mr Crouch.”

Holly nodded and made her way back to the castle at a run. Mercifully, Professor Dumbledore was in the entrance hall talking with Ludo Bagman.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Holly gasped as she came to a halt before them. “It’s Mr Crouch- professor, he’s- we found- him at the edge of the forest.”

“This discussion will have to wait I’m afraid Ludo,” Professor Dumbledore said seriously. “Lead the way Holly.”

Professor Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman followed Holly down to the edge of the forest where she and Viktoria had found Barty Crouch. However, when they arrived, Barty Crouch was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Viktoria lay stunned at the foot of the tree.

“You’re certain he was here Holly?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“Yes sir, he was mumbling a lot, but he definitely asked for you, said you should know something.”

Professor Dumbledore revived Viktoria as she spoke, conjuring a blanket for her.

“Here you are my dear,” he said gently as she came around. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Professor Dumbledore?” Viktoria looked confused until she saw Holly looking with worry over Professor Dumbledore’s shoulder. “I’m not sure, I vas keeping an eye on Mr Crouch when someone must have stunned me from behind.”

“Let’s go to the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey will have some salves for any bruises you sustained,” Professor Dumbledore told her, lending Viktoria a hand to help her up. “Thank you my dear.”

Holly didn’t pay much attention during dinner, choosing to ponder on the evening’s developments. It was good that Viktoria believed her over whatever nonsense Rita Skeeter wrote. What worried her more was the disappearance of Mr Crouch after Viktoria was stunned. He hadn’t seemed to be in a state to perform any magic, let alone attack a champion.

The questions only continued when she returned to her dorm to find a letter from Sirius lying on her bed.

_Holly,_

_Dumbledore’s told me what happened, it’s good you acted so quickly. This is completely out of character for Crouch, I don’t doubt that someone is up to something. All I can advise is that you keep your guard up, it could be anyone. Practice your spells for the third task._

_Padfoot_


	19. The President

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new day for the President brings the usual barrage from the press, but at least a cabinet meeting is productive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, life has gotten in the way of me posting regularly. My proofreader has started a new job, so understandably there's a fair admin to do. On my own end, dealing with French admin has its own difficulties (read: brickwall). On the upside, spare time has been put to good use planning the fifth year, so the turnaround shouldn't be too arduous.

**President Anazi**

A cool breeze whipped through the street as he walked, ruffling his hair. He passed several stands selling hot dogs and burgers to any hungry tourists and commuters that might not have had a decent breakfast. Jogging across the road, Quentin stopped at his usual newspaper stand. A few No-Majs were finishing paying the vendor as he grabbed a copy of _T_ from its stand.

“G’mornin’ Mr President,” the vendor nodded as he took Quentin’s money.

“Good morning to you too, Xander, how are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re fine sir,” he paused as he gave Quentin his change. “Can’t say you’re gonna like today’s headline though.”

“None have been good since I came into office anyway,” he chuckled. “Have a good day, Xander.”

“You too, sir.”

As Quentin came to the revolving doors or MACUSA’s headquarters, he shook his paper thrice, removing the No-Maj edition to reveal the wizarding edition beneath.

_TROUBLE BREWING IN BRITAIN SPURS FEARS OF IMMIGRANTS_

He was so absorbed shaking his head at some of the nonsense in the article, that Quentin nearly bumped into Cathy Hendrickas, the Director of the Magical Transport Board.

“Mr President,” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Cathy, good morning,” he returned the smile.

“Another day, another bad headline, eh?” She gestured to the paper in his hand.

“It’s lookin’ like it,” he shrugged. “I can’t imagine what’s on top of today’s agenda.”

She snorted as they came to the cabinet lift which would take them to the government quarter.

)(

“Good morning, everyone,” Quentin began as he took his seat at the head of table. “Let’s not waste too much time this morning and get down to the first item on the agenda.”

“Thanks, Mr President,” Harold Guartbag, the Head of the International Office, started. “As we are aware, the situation in Yemen is ameliorating, though this is only due to the victory of the Blood Saviour faction. Our intelligence suggests that they are targeting young people in the region in order to brainwash and train a new generation of terrorists, information corroborated by our allies’ own intelligence. As it is there’s very little we can do directly, for the time being the most suitable course of action appears to be following the President’s pledge.”

“Could we not increase the rate at which we’re accepting refugees?” Asked Cynthia Maydrew, the Head of Magical Home Affairs.

“If only it were so simple,” Harold sighed.

“I might also add that there’s no guarantee we’d be able to keep any new refugees safe here,” Quentin chimed in.

“Right you are Mr President,” Sophie Gilgarry concurred. “We’d have to recruit several hundred more Aurors to make up for lost numbers to lessen the strain of stationing guards.”

“As things stand, the media already distrust my government’s motives,” Quentin stroked his chin. “They’re getting hysterical about more refugees.”

“So we do nothing?” Cynthia sounded sceptical.

“Far from it, with this cabinet’s support, I’d like to increase our support to the opposition,” Harold told them. “Financial aid, logistics and medical aid will have to be the means as we lack public support for open martial support.”

“All in favour for increasing this support?” Quentin asked, noting the motion in his minutes. There was a unanimous raising of hands. “We are increasing our support of the opposition.”

“The second matter on today’s agenda is the troubling reports coming out of Britain,” Harold spoke once again. “According to the British Ministry, one of the organisers of this year’s TriWizard Tournament, Barty Crouch, has taken a leave of absence due to illness.”

“Seems innocent enough,” Ulysses Forg, Head of the Magical Transport Unit, coughed.

“Innocent yes,” Harold tilted his head. “But the Principal of Ilvermorny got in touch with me yesterday to inform me that Mr Crouch has been found dead in Hogwarts’s Forbidden Forest.”

There was an audible gasp from around the table.

“It might be too early to say, but we should remember the scenes from the World Cup,” Harold reminded them.

Quentin frowned. “Are you suggesting the two events may be linked?”

“It’s a possibility we’re exploring, if the two are linked as Professor Can’trememberhisname tells me Dumbledore believes, then we could be seeing a resurgence of Blood Supremacist activity in Britain,” Harold nodded. “I, for one, am inclined to believe Professor Dumbledore.”

“If Britain were to be engulfed in another civil war it’s certain to cause some instability,” Sophie added. “Particularly if the last guy is involved as Dumbledore suggests.”

“Dumbledore has always maintained that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named remains at large after his defeat,” Harold nodded.

“For the time being, I see little we can do,” Quentin harrumphed.

“I agree Mr President, but we should keep in mind that Dumbledore believes You-Know-Who was ready to expand his operations abroad shortly before he fell, just as Grindelwald did.”

“Harold, I believe you have one more item to present to the cabinet before we move onto domestic matters,” Quentin prompted the conversation forward.

“Yes, Mr President, it concerns the activities of the man who killed your predecessor,” he said. “Intelligence suggests the individual was involved in the war in Yemen, and has committed similar terrorist attacks in other countries.”

“Have we come any closer to discerning the attacker’s motives?” Asked Ulysses.

“Not as of yet, I’m afraid,” Harold sighed.

“I’d like to convene a summit with other leaders to discuss ways in which we can catch this person,” Quentin said abruptly. “This terrorist is dangerous and brazenly attacked the leader of our magical community. International efforts need to be coordinated to catch them.”

“Mr President, we are already doing all we can-” Harold began, but Quentin cut across him.

“We aren’t doing enough, I’m a laughing stock in the press, I need to be seen to be doing more if I’m not to be forced from office and abandon the economic programme I implemented,” Quentin rapped his knuckles on the table. “All in favour of this motion?”

They were a few hesitant glances, some frowns, but eight of his ten cabinet rose their hands in support.

“Harold I’m leaving the organisation of this to your department,” Quentin nodded in his direction. “If we’re all in agreement and there aren’t any more issues, then this meeting is over. Let’s get to work people.”


	20. Holly

**Holly**

Holly was barely paying attention to a word spoken by Professor Trelawney as she sat in Divination. As usual, the room was stiflingly hot, and Holly’s mind was on the events of the weekend. Ronnie was in a similar state, hair thrown into a messy bun after Holly’s style, minus the green streak that had fallen from Holly’s. The pair were slouched in their arm chairs. With their shirt sleeves rolled up, the pair were extremely thankful they hadn’t opted for tights that would have choked their legs. On the table in front of them were scattered the tarot cards they were supposed to be reading.

“So, what do you think it means?” Ronnie asked her, gesturing to her selection.

Hmm, wha-?” Holly snapped her gaze away from where she had been examining Neville’s newly manicured hands, curious as to what it meant. “Oh, er, that Hamish is going to lose a leg?”

“Sure, I’ll write that down,” Ronnie chuckled carelessly. They had been asked to see into the near future of a friend who was not in the class after Trelawney realised many people were not completing her tasks as she expected.

“How about this hand?” Holly pointed to a card depicting a family with a member in darkness.

“Erm, he’s got an uncle who joins You-Know-Who?” Ronnie suggested.

The two let out a snort loud enough to disturb Parvati Patil and Lance Brown, who tutted their disapproval.

After that bout of something that loosely resembled work, Holly returned to her stupor. Before she knew it, her chin was resting on her chest.

A thin beam of light entered through a slit in the curtains, dust particles floating through it. In spite of the heat of summer approaching, she still felt cold and the fire was thus lit.

“What news of my operatives?” She asked in a weak, high and cold voice.

“My lord,” Wormtail appeared in front of her, a small flask of Nagini’s venom clutched in his paw-like hand. “Duncan has assassinated the president of MACUSA, and his agents continue to carry out anti-Muggle attacks to make the replacement appear incompetent. He tells me that he plans to cripple Bulgaria with revolts and mass killings to occupy them whilst we gather strength.”

“It is indeed a good plan, you may tell him I commend him for his thinking,” she said raspingly, a pale, spidery hand reaching out for the flask of venom. “And what of my other operative?”

“Crouch has his plan in place for the final part in place, he says it is only a matter of time before the girl is yours my lord,” Wormtail replied, complying with her unspoken request and handing the flask to her.

“For both your sakes, let us hope he succeeds,” she threatened, bringing the venom to her lips and letting it flow down her throat. It brought a tingle to her fingers and a burning sensation to her forehead.

A sensation so strong Holly realised with a jolt it was her own scar. She woke up with a yell, knocking tarot cards to the floor. Professor Trelawney was crouched in front of her in an instant, concerned eyes bulging large through her macroscopic glasses.

“Is everything alright, dear?” She asked, placing a hand gently on Holly’s shoulder. “Your aura seems distraught.”

“I’m fine professor, honestly,” Holly nodded quickly, not wanting to incur another ramble about how she was doomed. “If I might be excused from the end of the lesson?”

“I’m sure Miss Weasley can lend you her notes to copy up,” Professor Trelawney said, returning to her usual ethereal self as she stood, gesturing Holly to the trapdoor.

Holly gratefully gathered up her things into her bag and scuttled to the trapdoor.

“Dumbledore,” she mouthed to Ronnie, who nodded in understanding and concern.

On the way, she readjusted her tie and took her hair from its messy bun, resyling it into a neater ponytail. She gave a passing wave to Hagrid, who was guiding Luna Lovegood back to the Ravenclaw tower. It seemed the fourth year had gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest, twigs and leaves were still stuck to her cardigan. The climb up to the headmaster’s tower seemed more arduous than before, but Holly usually came without any bags or books held under her arm.

She was about to knock on the door, when Holly overheard voices.

“I do not like it, Albus,” Karkaroff snarled.

“Nor do I Igor, but my hands are tied,” Professor Dumbledore replied calmly.

“I’m sure Albus would do all he could if Minister Fudge wasn’t expectin’ a great tournament,” Professor Mortessen of Ilvermorny piped up. “Ain’t that righ’?”

“Indeed, you are correct Brendan, Fudge can be as stubborn as a mule at times,” Professor Dumbledore conceded.

Professor Moody’s voice cut across them abruptly. “Much as this conversation is true, you should know it is no longer private,” he growled. “Miss Potter is waiting outside.”

Holly flinched back from the door where she had been eavesdropping. The door opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Snape, Professor Mortessen, Madam Maxine, Headman Talit, Karkaroff and Professor Moody, who gave her a wink as he held the door open.  

“Holly, what an unexpected pleasure,” Professor Dumbledore said, appraising her through his twinkling blue eyes. “Come inside a moment and I shall convene another time for our meeting.”

Nervously, she stepped into his office, standing by a table brimming with magical gadgets. Professor Dumbledore ushered the other teachers out of the room before closing the door behind them. All was silent, and Holly wondered when Professor Dumbledore would return.

Wandering around the table, Holly came to a mirrored alcove. Within it was a carved granite pedestal like those that supported the braziers along the quad, though much shorter, allowing her to peer into the metallic basin held by it. It was filled with some sort of shimmering liquid that almost danced as Holly breathed over it. Nebulous, indistinct shapes swirled in its depth, and Holly was tempted to reach out and touch them. Looking about to check that Professor Dumbledore was indeed gone, Holly gazed deep into the basin, leaning further and further forward.

Without warning, Holly found herself falling face first into it, her feet leaving the floor. Falling slowly, she landed with a thud in what appeared to be a courtroom, though not one she could recognise. It was like a small arena, in the centre stood a cage on a raised platform, spikes facing its interior. In the seating around the platform sat various witches and wizards, their faces grim and set, ready for business that Holly could tell would not be remotely amusing.

“Albus?” A voice called, and Holly nearly leapt out of her seat as she recognised Professor Dumbledore seated near the front. The man who was talking to him Holly could not recall seeing before. Professor Dumbledore looked a little odd, Holly couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

After a moment she realised it was because he looked younger, perhaps only a few years, but younger than she had ever seen him.

Except once before you have, a voice in her head whispered.

Suddenly, a hand reached through her chest, causing Holly to shriek in surprise. No one appeared to have noticed, which was perplexing.

“Pius, good to see you, if only the circumstances were cheerier,” a voice greeted the hand shaking that which was coming from her chest.

“You can say that again, Rufus old friend,” the man replied. “I’ve just been speaking to Mr Van de Lakk, he’s not pleased about his polo being interrupted.”

It was then that it clicked, a younger Professor Dumbledore, no once noticing her rather obvious presence. This was a memory, just like the one Tom Riddle’s diary had shown her.

A loud clanking sound emanated from the cage, a chair was being elevated into it. In the chair sat a familiar face, a younger, less well-groomed Karkaroff was looking panicked around him at the room of sombre faces. Finally, the clanking stopped, and was replaced by several ominous clicks as wrist and ankle shackles on the chair snapped his arms and legs into place.

Several loud bangs signalled the arrival of Mr Crouch, who looked no younger than when Holly had first seen him in the great hall.

“This council is now in session,” he announced to the room as he seated himself behind his podium. “Igor Josef Karkaroff, you are before this council as you have pleaded leniency of your sentence in exchange for new information concerning the hunt for remaining Death Eaters. Is this true?”

“You are correct sir,” Karkaroff replied earnestly. “I have names.”

Holly could feel everyone in the audience lean forward in anticipation, eager to catch the last few Death Eaters on the loose.

“Augustus Rookwood, who sold secrets from within the Ministry itself,” he said dramatically.

“Rookwood is dead, killed in a fight with Aurors trying to capture him last month,” Crouch said plainly. “Unless there are other names you wish to divulge, you shall be returned to Azkaban.”

“No, no, I have others,” he cried. “Rodolphus Lestrange!”

“Dead,” Crouch replied.

“Antony Dolohov?” Karkaroff sounded desperate.

“Dead.”

“Severus Snape!” He cried with triumph. “You cannot tell me Snape is dead!”

Holly gasped, so Snape had worked for Voldemort.

“If it might please the court,” Professor Dumbledore said as he stood. “I have already explained to the court that while Severus Snape did indeed work for Lord Voldemort, he turned spy for us prior to Voldemort’s fall, something that was proven by Veritaserum.”

“Noted,” Crouch nodded. “Now if they are no other names you can produce-”

“I have one!” Karkaroff shouted in mad plea. “One who was involved in the torture and drive to insanity of Frank and Alice Longbottom: Barty Crouch Junior.”

Before Holly could process the look of shock on Mr Crouch’s face, she felt a hand rest upon her shoulder.

“I think you’ve seen enough to know what happened next,” Professor Dumbledore said to her, though this was the elderly Professor she knew. “Time to go.”

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and Holly felt herself floating upwards, leaving the courtroom in a scene of uproar.

Holly staggered a little as she felt her feet returned to the floor of Professor Dumbledore’s office.

“Barty never quite got over the fact that his own son was a Death Eater,” Professor Dumbledore sighed, sitting on the steps leading up to his desk, motioning that Holly do the same. “He handled it himself, couldn’t bear the shame of others doing it.”

“Professor, what was that?” Holly asked, pointing to the basin.

“It’s a Pensieve, allows me to review memories like the one you just did,” he answered. “Lately, it’s been carrying that one in particular. Voldemort is getting stronger Holly, his time is approaching,” Professor Dumbledore looked at her beside him, the usual twinkle was gone from his eyes, replaced by something else. “I had hoped I might get some answers from Barty, but now he’s dead, this memory is all I have left.”

“Mr Crouch is dead, Professor?” Holly asked in confusion.

“His body was found this morning in the forest,” Professor Dumbledore explained.

“Oh,” Holly couldn’t muster many words for someone who had seemed so cold.

“But Holly, you are here for your own reasons are you not?” Professor Dumbledore queried.

“I had a dream Professor, during Divination,” she said the second part more quietly.

Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in mirth, a smile tickling his mouth. “Yes, I am aware Sybil’s lessons are not the most conducive to being awake. Do carry on.”

“Well in that dream I was in a house, one I’ve been to in another dream,” Holly continued. “I think I was Voldemort, in a weak and fragile body anyway. Wormtail was there, telling him what his “operatives” were up to. There was one who was causing trouble with MACUSA-”

Professor Dumbledore breathed a sharp intake of breath. “It is entirely possible that this Death Eater was responsible for the death of the last president, something I shall have to inform his replacement,” Professor Dumbledore said, more to himself than Holly. “Voldemort is indeed anticipating a full return to .

“Holly my dear, I hope it shall not inconvenience you to return to your friends, I have kept you long enough,” Professor Dumbledore said, giving her should a pat.

“Yes Professor,” Holly replied, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirt.

“I would recommend you continue to work with your fellow champions and to remain alert, I shall be doing all I can to ensure the tournament proceeds as safely as possible,” he told her. “Though be mindful, we may never know when this other operative plans to strike.”

 


	21. Holly

**Holly**

The heat of the day was fading as the champions descended the path to the converted Quidditch pitch. After a day of remaining in a disused classroom to practice spells with Heracles and Ronnie, avoiding the stares and questions after Rita Skeeter’s article about how she had fainted in Divination, Holly was glad to be able to breathe freely even for a while.

Most of the five schools were already seated in the stands, Holly could hear the babble of excited voices. Led by Ludo Bagman, they entered through the Ravenclaw changing rooms, pausing to change into more athletic clothing, before emerging onto the transformed pitch.

To one side sat a three tired podium for the winner and two runners-up. On the left, Professor Dumbledore and the other judges sat behind a table raised behind the small stage to which Ludo Bagman walked. Holly nearly made a double-take on seeing Priscilla seated where Barty Crouch normally sat. Priscilla gave her a tight smile in response.

Several whoops and cheers drew her attention to the red and gold banner that said “ _Go Potter!”,_ held up by none other than Fred and George. Holly grinned, seeing Heracles, Ronnie, Hamish and Neville waving pompoms and popping confetti from their wands.

“Holly, come join us,” Viktoria called Holly to the circle of champions that had formed in front of the maze.

Holly joined the huddle of champions around Terence.

“Wondered when you’d join us,” he smirked jokingly.

“I was- distracted,” Holly replied.

“So I think it’s fair to say the fact we’re working together is an open secret,” Handan said, glancing at the crowds behind her who were attentively listening to Ludo Bagman’s introduction to the challenge. “Are we pursuing a strategy in this one?”

“I do not zink eet eez right to do eet as a team,” said Fleur. “Zey are bound to spleet us up.”

Theo nodded. “Yeah, I heard Professor Mortessen saying they’d let the leading champions in first, so that’s Handan and myself.”

“Ok, so we aren’t necessarily working as a team,” Terence held up his hands. “But that doesn’t stop us from helping each other out of sticky situations. I’m sure Holly will be in any case,” he said, nudging her in the ribs.

Holly rolled her eyes.

“Champions,” the voice of Ludo Bagman interrupted them. “Much as I hate to break you all up, we are ready to begin the final task. If you could all find an entrance to the maze,” he gestured to the six openings in the hedge. “We’ll be sending you in twos, leading champions to trailing champions. With luck, Filch won’t accidentally set off the starting cannon ear-”

A loud bang signalled that Filch had set off the cannon by accident.

“Miss Malik, Mr Gilgarry, if you would,” Ludo pointed to two entrances. “The rest of you will be entering the maze in five minute intervals.”

Chuckling, Handan and Theo jogged to the entrances and disappeared into the bushes.

“To clarify, Holly, you will be entering the maze with Viktoria,” Ludo Bagman explained. “Terence you’ll be going with Fleur.”

A second bang made them all jump a foot in the air.

“I really must have a word with Filch about keeping track of time. Holly, Miss Krum, you might as well go now,” Ludo Bagman’s voice was tinged with of frustration as Holly and Viktoria made their way towards the maze.

The second Holly stepped inside, it was as if she had entered into a vacuum. The sound of the roaring crowd, of confetti and the brass band ceased immediately, and Holly was left with the loud sound of her heavy breathing in her ears.

Above her, the walls of the maze stretched high, leaving only a thin line for the fading daylight to filter through. At Holly’s level, it was almost so she had trouble seeing her feet in their dark trainers.

 _“Lumos!”_ Holly lit her wand, illuminating the path before her, and a small note nestled in the wall of a hedge at the end.

Approaching it, Holly saw some simple instructions.

_Turn left til the junction, at the crossroads go straight._

Bemused, Holly followed the note’s directions. Perhaps she would avoid some convoluted dead-ends of more vicious beasts. It took Holly several more reflexive turnings before she encountered the first beast. A sphinx.

“Greetings child,” the sphinx spoke in a low purr, turning its head to gaze at Holly through predatory yellow eyes. “To pass me you must answer a riddle correctly, if you refuse then you must find another path.”

Holly saw the sphinx’s claws glinting in the light of her wandtip, they were sharper than the razors Hamish had started to shave with.

“Well I don’t fancy looking for another way,” Holly said with an audible gulp, reasoning the beasts had been placed to block the vital paths deeper into the maze. “What’s your riddle?”

“What has teeth yet has no jaws, claws yet has no paws, moans yet cannot sing, lifts fallen leaves yet has no arms to swing?”

Holly lowered her wand for a moment, thinking. Not many things could match the description.

Sadness can claw at you, Holly thought briefly. Perhaps she was overthinking, emotions could not physically lift leaves.

If only I had some fresh air in this place, even a warm wind would help me think, Holly thought to herself. The sphinx was slowly but deliberately getting to its feet.

Holly slapped herself.

“Wind, the answer is wind,” she said with confidence.

“You are correct, child,” the sphinx sighed, slumping back down. “You may pass freely.”

“Th-thanks,” Holly’s voice betrayed how she felt as she stepped over the sphinx’s legs.

Holly continued through the maze, pausing occasionally to make a turning or double back on a dead-end. A scream prompted her into a jog. Rounding the bend, Holly saw the collapsed form of Viktoria being wrapped up the vines of a Venomous Tentacula.

 _“Relashio!”_ Holly cried, unravelling some of the looser vines. The vines carried on bringing Viktoria closer to the heart of the plant. Thinking back to spells she had seen in Herbology, Holly remembered what Professor Sprout used to freeze unruly vines. _“Immobulus!”_

The Venoumous Tentacula froze, it’s vines loosening from around Viktoria’s body. Holly pulled her friend free of the green tendrils.

 _“Periculum_ _!”_ A jet of red sparks fired themselves from the end of her wand into the air. Holly dragged Viktoria’s limp form away from the plant to the safety of the last crossroads before following the route she had taken prior to encountering the Tentacula. The plant shivered, prompting Holly to pick up her pace.

Several more turns brought Holly face to face with a path that was shrouded in fog; a chill settled on her shoulders, as the hooded figure emerged from out of the mist. Holly reached into her mind for happiness, bringing it to the centre of her attention even as the Dementor approached with its blood-curdling, rattling breath.

 _“Expecto Patronum!”_ Her hawk flew from the tip of her wand, bowling over the Dementor, which tripped as it fell backwards.

Dementors don’t trip, Holly smirked inwardly.

_“Riddikulus!”_

The Boggart was forced into a steaming hot bath whilst Holly carried onto the next turning.

The sounds of spellfire and shouts spurred Holly to round the corner where she saw Terence and Handan atop a small grassy mound in a circle of the maze. Surrounding them was a group of beavers, though these rodents let out small gouts of flame from their mouths and seemed ill-pleased to have the two wizards in their midst. As Holly watched, one of them got close enough to burn Handan’s sleeve, who retaliated with a well-aimed hex.

“Holly, go round!” Handan told her on seeing Holly.

“I can’t just leave you guys!” She retorted.

This option closed itself to Holly, as some of the beavers took notice of her and began firing off flames as they moved towards her. Throwing caution to the wind, Holly jumped to the side to avoid a tongue of fire before running toward the mound to join Terence and Handan.

“All the stupidity of a Gryffindor too,” Terence muttered. “Now we’re all trapped.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Holly chuckled, turning her attention to a beaver getting too close for her liking. _“Rictumsempra!”_ The beaver was tossed in an arc into the bushes, only to re-emerge in a gout of flame. “Any idea how to get past these things?”

“I’ve tried everything before Terence showed up,” Handan said in exasperation.

“Use water, it calms them down!” A shout drew their attention to where Theo stood, water gushing from his wand. “They’re Canadian Fire Beavers, done them at Ilvermorny.”

“Anything to get off this mound,” Handan nodded, shooting her own water jet into the crowd of beavers.

 _“Aguamenti maxima!”_ Holly cried, joining Handan and Theo with Terence.

At first, the water seemed to have no effect, the beavers continued to advance menacingly. Nevertheless, just as Theo had said, the beavers seemed to settle down, snuggling up to each other and allowing Holly, Handan and Terence to join Theo.

“Thanks,” Holly said breathlessly, ending her flow of water with a sharp flick of her wand.

“I thought I might be more help here than doin’ a Holly,” Theo said with a snicker. “I don’t think we’re far now, probably jus’ a few more obstacles.”

Terence nodded in agreement. “Anyone have any trouble so far?”

“Viktoria,” Holly admitted. “There was Venomous Tentacular, but I was too late to stop it.”

“She’ll be fine,” Handan told Holly, placing a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “The professors wouldn’t let anything bad happen to any champion.”

“Yeah, she’s probably just knocked out, nothing but dented pride,” Terence said as he began making his way down the passage to the first new junction. “Let’s keep moving. Oh hey, Fleur.”

The Beauxbatons champion had appeared at the end of the passage. As Holly joined Terence with the others, she noted something was off in the French girl’s demeanour. Fleur was silent, standing motionless.

“I’m not sure Fleur’s at home,” Handan said slowly, a note of worry evident in her voice. “And I think I’ve seen this before.”

It took Holly a moment to realise, a moment too late, that Fleur’s eyes had a haze in front of them.

“Because she’s been Imperiused!” Holly yelled just as Fleur raised her wand and shot off a yellow bolt of light that struck Theo square in the chest. _“Stupefy!”_ Holly snapped off her own jinx, felling their Imperiused friend.

There was a silence interrupted only by heavy breathing as they all recovered from the shock of what had occurred. Finally, Handan broke it, rushing to examine Theo.

“Out cold, but breathing,” she confirmed.

“Fleur as well,” Terence added. “The professors will come and get them.”

Handan lifted her wand skywards and let go a jet of red sparks.

“Lead the way, Holly,” Terence said, gesturing to the path ahead.

After a few uneventful turnings, Holly spotted the blue glow of the TriWizard Cup. It was at the end of a particularly long path, with apparently nothing between them and it.

“So, what do we do now?” Handan asked on seeing its glow.

“We race,” Terence replied. “We might as well try to preserve a semblance of competition, first one to the cup is the winner.”

“On the count of three?” Holly asked, they all nodded in agreement. “One…two…three.”

Holly shot forward like a coiled spring, her legs pumping for all she was worth. Beside her, both Terence and Handan were doing their best to keep up with her sprint. Focusing on the blue glow of the cup in front of her, Holly allowed her sight to narrow to a point, her breath coming loud in her ears accompanied by the roar of blood rushing.

She was so engrossed in getting to the cup, Holly barely heard the crash as Handan tripped and stumbled into a hedge. Only when she had stopped with the cup standing on its pedestal inches from her, did Holly realise only she and Terence were in the centre of the maze.

“Looks like-” Terence said between breaths. “Hogwarts…wins…”

“What…do-you…mean?” Holly asked, bent double.

“It doesn’t matter….who touches the cup…we might as well do it together,” he replied.

“But I shouldn’t even be in this, Terence,” Holly said, shaking her head. “I didn’t put my name in the goblet.”

“That’s all academic,” said Terence. “This is an opportunity to show some unity between Slytherin and Gryffindor, something Professor Dumbledore would appreciate given what’s going on in the world.”

Holly sighed. “Ok, fine. But if anything happens it’s on your head.”

They reached out to each grab a handle of the cup.

Without warning, Holly felt a pulling sensation on her navel, and the ground beneath her feet dissolving into nothing.

)(

She landed heavily on her stomach, the air knocked from her lungs. Looking up at her surroundings Holly felt disorientated; in the same way she had been when she had taken the portkey with the Weasleys to see the world cup. The thought struck like a physical blow: they had just taken a portkey. To where she wasn’t sure, but Terence was somewhere in the vicinity.   
  
His voice drifted over to her. “A portkey, Holly, we just took a portkey!”  
  
“I know Terence, I know,” she groaned and clambered wearily to her feet, every joint ached, moaning in protest.  

Holly looked around at their surroundings; they had been taken to a cemetery. There was something that felt familiar about it, though Holly couldn’t place her finger on it. On a hill in the distance, she thought she could see a large house that she had seen before.   
  
“I think I recognise this place,” Holly said to Terence as he joined her from his inspection of the Cup. “Like from a dream.”  
  
“A dream?” He asked. “What kind of dream?”  
  
“I dunno, it’s been over the course of the year; they’ve always been vivid, but I never remembered them, until now.”  
  
“Perhaps one of these tombstones can jog your memory,” Terence suggested, gesturing around them.

“Worth a look I guess,” she replied, moving to the elaborate statue of a hooded figure of death. In one hand it held a scythe, the other a scroll with a gothic inscription.   
  
_Here lies interred the mortal remains of Christopher Wilkins Riddle aged 64 years of age, his beloved wife, Mary Rose Riddle aged 57 years of age, and their son, Thomas Christopher Riddle aged 37 years of age. Who departed this life together the 24th June 1951. Long may they rest in peace ‘til the Lord returns with his angels, and all shall be judged before God._    
  
“Terence, you might want to take a look at this,” Holly called.

Maybe this is another branch of the tree, it must be. Holly’s mind raced with a search for a plausible conclusion other than the one she desperately wished was false.   
  
“Isn’t Riddle You-Know-Who’s original last name?” He asked.

“Yeah it is,” she breathed, unease seeping into her tone. Terence’s shout pulled her from her theories. “Hmm, what is it?”  
  
“Someone’s coming. You there, stop!” Terence’s voice held a quiver of doubt as the woman approached.   
  
She seemed familiar to Holly, as if she should know the woman.   
  
Then Holly saw she bundle of rags the woman carried, and her world exploded into blinding pain. Holly’s head felt like it would split open, a butcher’s carving knife bursting from her skull. 

Then she was the bundle of rags, a weak body gazing at a young man and red-headed girl.   
  
“Kill the spare.” She heard herself say. The woman raised a wand from her jacket pocket.   
  
“Avada Kedavra!” A bolt of bright green flashed across the space between them, hitting Terence squarely in the chest and flinging him backwards like a ragdoll. Holly was ripped back to her own body, stumbling from the brief foray into Voldemort’s mind.

The woman raised her wand again. With a flick, Holly’s hands and feet were bound by thick ropes as she was forced backwards onto the plinth beneath the Riddles’ monument. Another set of ropes emerged behind her and bound her to it.   
  
“Quickly!” A rasping voice emanated from the bundle of rags. Placing it on the ground gently, the woman swished her wand, conjuring a large black cauldron and fire. She hobbled over to the grave below Holly, barely registering her presence. The pain in her scar had become a dull ache, numb enough for her to process the recent turn of events.    
  
“Bone of the father, unwillingly given,” the woman chanted as she levitated a femur from the soil into the boiling cauldron, which spewed white smoke as it splashed inside.   
  
“Flesh of the servant,” she paused as she held his right forearm over the lip, and Holly had a pretty clear and disgusting idea of what was to happen next. “Willingly sacrificed!” He cried out as his hand was severed at the wrist, falling into a soft plop, blood spurting softly from the stump.

“Blood, of the enemy!” Holly jolted as the woman finally looked at her, revealing herself to be none other than Wormtail. Holly’s stomach churned in synchronisation with the cauldron’s contents. Wormtail approached her, a wicked-looking rusted knife in her hand, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. “Forcibly taken!”  
  
She grabbed Holly’s wrist, breath stinking of alcohol. Bringing the knife up, Pettigrew drew a line down Holly’s forearm, breaking through the skin. Holly grunted at the new source of pain.

She walked back to the cauldron, holding the bloodied knife up high. With a few shakes of her wrist, Wormtail allowed Holly’s blood to fall into its contents. A gush of golden smoke billowed from the cauldron.    
  
“Do it! Now!” The raspy voice returned. Wormtail hurried to comply, gathering up the bundle of rags. Without further ceremony, she dumped it into the cauldron.   
  
The potion reacted instantly, as did Holly’s scar, roiling and frothing within its confines. That soon changed however, as a black tendrils emerged from the cauldron, slowly disintegrating it as they tore it gently to pieces. Within moments, the cauldron, its contents and the fire beneath were gone.   
  
In the space it had occupied, a ball of blackness hovered. From it, a body began to take shape, arms, legs, a head. The dark tendrils began to clothe the figure in wispy cloth until the being placed its feet on the damp grass and the Lord Voldemort took a deep breath of air in his own body at last.   
  
All this was lost on Holly, who continued to groan in pain as the throbbing in her scar died down to a dull ache once more.   
  
“Ah,” He said, running his hands over his bald white head, slits of a nose opening and closing. “Wormtail, come here, my wand.”  
  
The woman broke from her awed stare to stumble over to him. She delicately passed him a bone white wand. Voldemort took it with little acknowledgment.    
  
“Your arm, Wormtail,” the woman sniffled thankfully as she moved to show Voldemort the bloody stump. “The other arm!”   
  
Wormtail whimpered as Voldemort took the other arm and drew up her sleeve. Holly gasped quietly as the Dark Mark was revealed. Voldemort wasted no time in pressing the tip of his wand to it, causing Holly’s scar to erupt into fire once more. A black smoky skull appeared in the clouds above, lighting the scene below. From its mouth spewed an equally black serpent.   
  
Ethereal shouts and yells echoed faintly as dark, smoky shapes plunged earthwards. The smoke cleared as they landed, leaving seven hooded figures behind.   
  
Voldemort turned to greet them all. “My friends, welcome back. As you can see, I have returned, no thanks to you” he spat the last part. “I must confess to find myself, disappointed. Not one of you tried to find me.”  
  
He began to go around the circle, tearing away their masks into black wisps. “Goyle, Crabbe, MacNair! Not even you Lucius.” The Malfoy patriarch grunted as he fell to his knees with the rest.   
  
“My Lord, if there had been any sign, or whispers of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately,” he protested.   
  
“Of course, you would have. So, it comes as something of a surprise to me, given the signs and whispers of my whereabouts in Albania, that you failed to appear,” Voldemort tutted as if reprimanding a delinquent child. “Only Wormtail returned, though more from fear than any loyalty,” he swept over to Wormtail, causing her to cower fearfully. Voldemort motioned to her stump.   
  
Snorting thankfully, she obliged, allowing Voldemort to conjure silvery wisps from his wand. The wisps solidified around Wormtail’s severed wrist, coalescing into a silver hand. Wormtail flexed and twisted the replacement hand, admiring the runes that flowed across its surface.   
  
“Master...thank you...” she snorted.   
  
Throughout this Holly had been moaning in pain, now Voldemort turned to greet her.   
  
“Ah, Holly, so good of you to join us,” he glided up to the monument’s pedestal. “Quite why Wormtail hasn’t introduced you, I will never know. No matter, I shall do it myself. My dear friends, I present the Girl-Who-Lived.”

The Death Eaters laughed.

“Holly, I know how tired you must be of hearing the events that bind us together, but for the sake of my Death Eaters, would you mind terribly if I recount the important details?” Voldemort asked. Holly could only shake her head, as the pain in her scar continued to ache. “I though not,” he said, turning to face the Death Eaters behind him. “I should have realised when Lily Potter threw herself in front of my curse, that Holly was protected. For once, Albus Dumbledore was right,” the Death Eaters chuckled. “Love is an old kind of magic, one very hard to break by conventional means. However, by using Holly’s own blood in my revival, I am more than capable of killing her now; the same blood, the same protection flows through each of our veins.”

“If we’ve got the same protection,” Holly choked out. “Why not prove it in a fair fight?”

The smiled that settled on Voldemort’s features did not so much grace as disfigure his mouth.

“But of course, Holly, I’m sure my friends will be glad to see me finish you off in a manner befitting a witch,” he replied menacingly.

A flick of his wand, and the ropes binding Holly fell to the floor, allowing her to breathe once more. Holly drew her wand, looking around her at the predatory smiles of the Death Eaters. Taking a deep breath, Holly leapt towards a tall tombstone, evading a flash of green.

“Come back here Holly Potter,” Voldemort cried. “You promised a duel, and a duel I shall get!”

From behind the tombstone, Holly could see the TriWizard Cup and the body of Terence inches away. If only there was a way she could reach both without being caught. Unable to see a way out of her predicament, Holly squared her shoulders. If it was a fight Voldemort wanted, he would get a fight.

Maybe I’ll be able to cause enough of a distraction to get away, she thought grimly.

“Alright then,” Holly said defiantly. “Let’s have this duel.”

She stood up and walked back towards Voldemort.

“I knew you would see the light,” he crowed. “But before we begin, formalities must be observed. First we bow.”

Holly remained rigid as Voldemort began to bend.

“Come now, Holly, Dumbledore must have taught you to be polite to your betters,” Voldemort chided. Holly stood stock still. “Well, if you insist. Wand at the ready Holly.”

Holly raised her wand, readying herself for battle.

 _“Crucio!”_ Voldemort acted faster than Holly could blink, causing pain to shoot through her body. Holly crumbled to the floor in violent spasms, a cry of surprise and pain wrenched from her lips. “Well done, Holly, I just thought I might test you a little before we got started.”

The pain subsided, and Holly scrambled back to her feet. The Death Eaters had encircled the pair, ready to trap her should she try to escape.

 _“Stupefy!”_ Holly cried, firing off a red bolt of light. Voldemort cast it aside in the same way Holly might bat away a fly. _“Rictumsempra!”_ Holly’s hex shattered a headstone.

She shot off several more spells, coming to the realisation that Voldemort would simply deflect them elsewhere in boredom.

If I can disarm him…., Holly began to think.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ She cried as Voldemort shouted back his own curse.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a flash of light as the two bolts connected between them, and Holly found her wand attached to the red beam connected to Voldemort’s green. She struggled to free her wand, but it was as if they had been tied by a length of wire that only tightened when she tried to free herself.

“No, leave her, Potter is mine to kill!”

Holly glanced away from the point of contact to see a few Death Eaters backing away from her, apparently having changed their minds from intervening.

Her attention was drawn back to their duel by the swirling clouds that had erupted from the end of Voldemort’s wand. The clouds flew over towards Holly, coalescing until she recognised them as people.

Or at least echoes of them, she thought to herself as Terence came into focus.

“Holly, keep going,” he shouted at her. “Your parents will explain the plan!”

“That’s him, that’s the coward what killed me!” An elderly man Holly recognised from her dream was pointing at Voldemort. “You show him, girl!”

Looking around her, Holly could see that a glowing, golden dome of light had surrounded both her and Voldemort. On either side of her, two familiar ghosts had settled down.

“M-mum? D-dad?” Holly asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not important dear,” Lily Potter replied. “We’re so proud of you in this moment facing off against this monster.”

“Your mother’s right Hols,” James Potter added. “We need you to break the connection, once that happens we’ll distract him and allow you to escape.”

“What about you, though?” Holly asked.

“It’s alright love, he can’t hurt us any more,” Lily replied.

“Break the connection, love,” said James, pointing to the centre where Holly and Voldemort’s spells had connected.

“Let go,” Lily joined in. “Let go.”

Mustering her strength, Holly yanked her wand upwards, severing the connection with a crack. In seconds, the clouds rushed towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters and engulfed them in blue fog. For a brief moment, Holly heard their cries of anger before she burst into a sprint towards the TriWizard Cup and Terence’s body.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

A flash of green shot over her shoulder, and Holly dived towards her goal, grabbing Terence’s hand before her other arm reached out for the Cup. She felt the familiar tug on her navel, and the graveyard dissolved into a whirl of colours.

She landed on her back, the Cup falling from her hand with the force of her arrival. Cheers greeted her as the crowd spotted her return.

“She’s back!”

“They’re back!”

A scream interrupted the cheers, prompting the pitch to fall into an echoing silence. Someone had noticed Terence’s body.

“Miss Weasley, would you lend a hand?” The voice of Professor Dumbledore floated down to Holly. Two hands took hold of her limp arms and tried to lift her.

“Terence,” Holly said loudly. “Where are his parents?!”

Professor Dumbledore’s face appeared above her, the usual twinkle was gone from his eyes.

“They are here Holly, fret not,” he said in a soothing voice.

Holly looked to her left, two adults were crouched over Terence’s body. The woman’s shoulders were visibly heaving as her husband stroked her back.

“My boy, my poor boy,” she cried.

“Come on Potter, on your feet,” Professor Moody yanked Holly to stand. She staggered a little as she put weight on her feet. Professor Moody steadied her with his walking staff. “Why don’t we get inside, get away from this crowd?”

Holly nodded feeling numb, she allowed Professor Moody to take her out of the pitch. Lost in her own world, Holly failed to realise where they were going before Professor Moody sat her down in a chair in his office.

“How are you feeling, Potter?” He asked her as she came to see the room in which she was seated. “Have some water,” he passed her a small glass.

She gratefully accepted, letting the cool liquid down her throat.

“Quite an adventure you’ve had eh? First the tournament, then meeting the Dark Lord in the flesh,” he said.

Holly furrowed her brow, noting what he had said.

“How do you know about that?” She asked slowly.

Professor Moody chuckled. “Because I made it happen.”

“You- you made the Cup into a portkey?”

“More than that Potter,” he said indignantly. “I was there making sure you got through every task. Who do you think told Hagrid to show you the dragons, eh? Who gave that house-elf the gillyweed? Who suggested to Terence that the champions should work together, giving you the best shot at passing each task?” He seemed to grow more boastful with each question. “Me, it was all me,” he eyed her with a predatory gaze. “It’s a shame the Dark Lord couldn’t kill you himself, he would have liked to end you whilst you were unspoilt,” Moody said as he stared at Holly in a way that made her skin crawl, eyes lingering on her chest.

Before Holly could shout for help, the door to the office crashed to the floor. Professor, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape stood at the threshold.

“Step away from Miss Potter, Professor,” Professor Dumbledore said calmly, but Holly couldn’t help but notice the menace directed towards Moody. “And kindly sit in that chair.”

Professor Moody seemed to shrink before them, as if he knew his game was up. Grudgingly, he sat in a chair in front of the desk.

“Severus, you have the Veritaserum?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“Indeed I do, Professor,” Snape replied, marching up to Moody as he drew his wand and a small vial from his robes. “Drink up.”

Professor McGonagall came quickly over to Holly, wrapping a tartan scarf around her shoulders.

“Are you alright, Potter? Nothing damaged?” She asked tersely.

“I’m fine Professor, thanks,” Holly replied.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Professor McGonagall said, helping Holly to get out of the chair.

“One moment, Minerva,” said Professor Dumbledore. “If Holly could stay for just a moment I think her presence may be useful,” he turned to Moody, who Holly noticed looked less like Moody by the second. “Are you a Death Eater impersonating Alastor Moody?”

“Y-yes,” the man struggled to keep his lips sealed.

“Severus, if you look around I’m sure you’ll find the manner of his disguise,” Professor Dumbledore said, prompting Snape to search the desk’s drawers.

“Polyjuice Potion, Headmaster,” Snape sneered as he lifted a flask of mud coloured liquid.

“That would explain who’s been stealing from your stores,” said Professor Dumbledore wryly.

Their attention turned back to the man as Moody’s electric blue eye popped from its socket to be replaced by an angry brown one. The same occurred to Moody’s false leg as it his straggly mane of hair shrunk back into his scalp, becoming paler as it thinned to reveal a scabby head. His skin bubbled as his head shrank, fingers cracked as Moody’s callouses were replaced with scabs, legs spasmed as they returned to their normal proportions. With a final gasp, the man was changed back.

“Barty Crouch Junior, I should have realised,” Professor Dumbledore remarked. “Do you have anything to say before the Aurors arrive?”

“You’re too late, he’s back, the Dark Lord has returned,” Crouch’s voice was close to a laugh. “And he will reward me for my part.”

“Mad as ever, I see,” Professor Dumbledore sighed. “Minerva, I’m sure you can escort Miss Potter to the infirmary. Severus and I will be more than enough to hold Barty here until Kingsley arrives.”

)(

It was several hours before Holly was allowed to leave the infirmary after Madam Pomfrey had ensured she was satisfied with Holly returning to her friends. Professor Dumbledore met her outside.

“Ah Holly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m ok sir, just a bit shaken is all,” Holly replied.

“I hope it’s not too much trouble to ask you to come to my office, I’d like to explain a few things, and I’m sure you have questions yourself,” he said, gesturing that she should accompany him.

Professor Dumbledore’s office was almost identical to the way Holly had last seen it, the Pensieve was still out and Fawkes was sat on his perch. He sat down behind his desk as Holly seated herself.

“Holly, I must first apologise for allowing you to go through your ordeal this year,” he began, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The Goblet of Fire is enchanted so that champions begin to feel a compulsion to compete if they are prevented from doing so, in extreme cases this has led to insanity. Nevertheless, I have failed to provide sufficient oversight.”

Holly was silent for a moment.

“Mr Crouch did say something about a magical contract,” she said.

“Indeed,” Professor Dumbledore nodded. “Though I am ashamed that I did not pick up on the fact that his Death Eater son had disguised himself as Alastor Moody sooner. I questioned him after you left; it appears Mr Crouch allowed a sliver of regret to make him release his son, hiding him under an invisibility cloak and having his house-elf Winky, whom I believe you met at the Quidditch World Cup, drug him to maintain his docility.

“The attack at the cup by those Death Eaters inadvertently awakened Barty from his docility, after which he made contact with Voldemort with information regarding the TriWizard Tournament,” Professor Dumbledore continued. “Mr Crouch eventually discovered this, leading to his son murdering him shortly after you and Miss Krum found him in the forest. Which leads us to our current predicament.”

“Professor,” said Holly. “When I was in the graveyard with Voldemort, we had a duel. I- our wands sort of, connected.”

“Priori Incantatum,” he said softly. “This can occur between two wands which share a core, as is the case between you and Voldemort. I assume you saw his last victims?”

“I- yeah,” Holly replied. “Mum, dad, Terence, an elderly man.”

Professor Dumbledore lifted his glasses from his desk. “I am afraid to say Voldemort usually chooses only one option for those he feels get in his way.”

The moment was interrupted as Minister Fudge barged into Professor Dumbledore’s office.

“Really Dumbledore, what is all this nonsense about You-Know-Who returning?!” He asked. “A boy has died! Can you not see that now is not the time, and yet Kingsley Shacklebolt tells me that you believe You-Know-Who is back.”

“That is indeed the case, Cornelius,” Professor Dumbledore said curtly as he stood. “Though I’m sure Miss Potter here would be more than happy to support this assertion.”

“I saw him, Minister,” said Holly as Fudge turned to her in disbelief.

“Normally there would be a ceremony, but as things stand it’s best if you receive your prize money without a fuss,” Fudge said in a huff, before handing Holly a velvet bag heavy with galleons and marching back the way he came.

“I don’t think he believes us, Professor,” said Holly as she hefted the bag onto her lap.

“Sadly Cornelius has never been the most reasonable Minister,” sighed Professor Dumbledore. “Holly, I don’t think I can keep you much longer, your friends will be growing anxious and I should think you’ll be glad to see them again.”

“Yes, Professor,” she said, making her way to leave.

“Good luck, Holly.”


	22. Hamish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no, I've no idea why he's eating fruit salad.

**Hamish**

Hamish was tucking into his bowl of fruit salad when Professor Dumbledore stood to make an announcement. A hush descended over the great hall.

“I do not wish to spoil your appetites,” he began. “But there are a few things I wish to say before you all head home for the summer. As many of you are aware, an incident in the final task of the tournament led to the passing of one our students. Terence Higgs was a pillar of the Hogwarts community, a proud Slytherin and a good friend to many, and his passing fills us all with sadness.

“The Ministry of Magic does not wish for me to tell you this, but I think not to do so would be an insult to his memory,” Professor Dumbledore continued. “Terence Higgs was murdered by Lord Voldemort,” the great hall erupted into furtive whispers. “Who has sadly returned to power. In this hour, I would take the time to reinforce how important it is to maintain the friendships you made this year.

“Those of you close to Terence will be aware of the date and place of his funeral, and I would ask the rest of you to be understanding to the grief they will be experiencing at this time,” the whispers died down. “If they are any students who require aid, myself, your Head of House, Professors and Senior Prefects are available.

“I thank you for that moment of your time,” said Professor Dumbledore.

)(

“Bit of a morbid speech from Professor Dumbledore this year,” Ronnie commented.

They were sat in their usual compartment of the train. Heracles was stroking Crookshanks who purred softly, Ronnie was staring out the window as the scenery rolled past, Hamish munched on a pumpkin pasty as Holly read her battered copy of The Hobbit. They all looked up as Ronnie broke the silence.

“Yeah, not much to be cheery abou’ though,” said Hamish thoughtfully.

“And he was right to point out that we should maintain contact with those from the other schools,” Heracles added, pausing to scratch behind Crookshanks’s ears.

“What do you think, Holly?” Ronnie asked.

“Hmm?” Holly looked up from her book.

Hamish chuckled. “Getting up to a good bit?”

“They’ve just made it to Bjorn’s house,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Bjo- who?” Ronnie glanced at the pages in confusion.

“I’ll lend it to you once I’ve finished,” Holly smiled, patting her friend on the shoulder.

“Oh this reminds me,” said Heracles as he shifted Crookshanks onto the seat. He stood to retrieve a bag. Pulling it down, he stuck his hand inside and took out a jam jar. Inside, a small green beetle feebly fluttered its wings. “Say hello to Rita Skeeter.”

“Cles, are ye sayin’ that ye’ve gone mad?” Hamish asked.

“I’m saying that the reason she was able to find out all those things about us is because she’s an animagus,” he retorted. “And if she continues to fabricate lies about us in the _Prophet_ , then the Aurors will know about her being an illegal animagus.”

“Heracles Granger, that is both amazing and slightly evil,” Ronnie laughed.

The door to the compartment slid open abruptly, prompting Hamish to look up to see Iolo standing tentatively in the doorway. Realising he had crumbs on his chest from his pasty, Hamish blushed and quickly wiped down his t-shirt, brushing them onto the floor.

“Hey Iolo, didn’t expect to see ye here,” Hamish said, mentally kicking himself for saying something so stupid.

“Hamish, can I talk to you a minute?” Iolo said quietly.

“S-sure, what do ye need?”

“I meant in private,” Iolo replied, eyes flicking across Ronnie, Heracles and Holly who were taking turns passing around Rita Skeeter.

“Oh right,” Hamish felt his face redden. “Sure thing, catch ye guys in a wee bit,” he said as he stood, following Iolo out of the compartment.

Squeezing past a few people, Iolo led Hamish to the end of the carriage.

“So, what do ye need?” Hamish asked nervously, unsure what was going to happen.

“I was just wondering,” Iolo replied. “If you would mind if I wrote to you over the summer.”

“Oh, right- I mean yes that’d be…great,” Hamish spluttered in shock. “Sorry, I’d love that.”

“Good, I hope you have a good summer Hamish,” Iolo smiled.

There was silence but for the rocking of the train for a moment, then Hamish felt Iolo’s hand cupping his face. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, allowing his lips to brush against Iolo’s. Hamish pressed himself a little closer before they parted, slightly out of breath.

Iolo’s face was flushed. “Well, b-be seeing you Hamish.”

“Y-yeah.”

Hamish returned to the cabin once he was sure his face had returned to normal. Smoothing his curls, he opened the door to the compartment. Ronnie had returned to staring out of the window, Heracles to stroking Crookshanks and Holly’s nose was buried back in her book.

“What did he want in the end?” Ronnie asked absentmindedly on noticing his return.

“Hmm, oh jus’ askin’ if I’d seen our Ravenclaw friends,” Hamish said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Hamish glanced about, seeing Holly give him a sly wink.

The rest of the journey continued in silence, Ronnie was content stroking Crookshanks with Heracles, Holly read and Hamish wrote down the week’s events in his journal.

When they pulled into King’s Cross, Hamish pulled his trunk down from the rack and followed Heracles out of the train. Holly had already joined the Weasleys, discreetly handing a velvet bag to Fred and George and whispering something in George’s ear. He grinned as he accepted it.

“Hamish,” the voice of his father drew his attention to where his parents were stood.

“Jus’ a wee minute dad,” he called as he went over to the Weasleys, Holly and Heracles. “Guys, I’ve gotta go.”

“We know Hamish,” Holly grinned, embracing him briefly. “We’ll see you in a week though.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting away from us anytime soon,” Ronnie chuckled as she gave him a hug.

Heracles hugged him. “One week and then we’ve got that holiday.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye in a week,” he said as he waved them goodbye.

Hamish thought he caught a glimpse of Iolo through the crowd.

I’m gonna have to explain why I’m getting letters from him to mum and dad, Hamish thought as he joined his parents, allowing his father to ruffle his hair.


	23. The President

**Anazi**

“If we could get back to the matter at hand instead of talking of what may or may not have occurred last week,” Fudge grumbled.

“Minister, with all due respect, we can’t just discount the word of Albus Dumbledore,” Quentin objected.

They had been going around in circles for the past twenty minutes, yet no ground was being made for either side of the argument. His first international summit was going about as well as he’d imagined, no progress seemed in sight. Fudge had formed a group with the representatives of the Nigerian, Norwegian, Siberian and Brazilian magical governments opposing any claim for the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So far, they had blocked any progress with all the effectiveness of a bathroom plug.

“We ought to be focusing our efforts on capturing Sirius Black,” Fudge said as if he hadn’t heard Quentin. “She’s a known killer of Muggles and a Death Eater.”

“Minister, need I remind you this summit is to discuss the strategy against the rogue terrorist and You-Know-Who?” Quentin sighed, rubbing his forehead. Perhaps the setting of an arena would have been a better choice of venue than the current conference room? “The search for Sirius Black, innocent or not, remains a domestic matter for your own Aurors.”

“Thank you President Anazi,” the French representative spoke. “If the British Minister could cease and desist with his claims, we can move on to the subject of countering these two threats.”

Finally, Quentin thought to himself. Towards the end of the last war in Britain, it had become evident Voldemort had been probing other countries for weaknesses. Some of Quentin’s own advisors who could remember the time, told him they believed Voldemort had planned to expand his reign of terror abroad once he had secured Britain.

“Minister, this summit is still in session,” the French dignitary’s voice broke Quentin’s train of thought. Fudge and his aides were leaving the room quite noisily.

“I shan’t abide with lies being directed at my person,” Fudge snapped back, before storming from the room.

“Euh, bon,” the French dignitary looked shocked at the interruption. “Now that we are all settled-”

But before he could say much more, four figures appeared in the room. They didn’t Apparate so much as tear their way into the space, as if from some hellish portal. Quentin gasped, he could recognise the trappings of Death Eaters clearly.

“This meeting is adjourned,” said the lead Death Eater, in a voice Quentin recognised. “And a random selection of lives ended.”

“Mr President!” A rough voice signalled the sudden force of Quentin’s aide pushing him off his chair to the floor.

Not a moment too soon, as the air was filled with spellfire. It seemed a few delegates were fighting back, but Quentin couldn’t help but notice that as time wore on, more and more of the spells seemed to be flashes of green light.

After several tense moments, the fighting stopped, and silence hung heavy on the room. Climbing to his feet, Quentin saw that the Death Eaters had left. In their wake, the stench of death clung to everything. The bodies of several dignitaries were sprawled across tables, chairs and the floor.

“Are you alright, sir?” His aided asked anxiously.

“I’m fine Gerrard,” Quentin replied. “But I think this confirms what Dumbledore said. He’s back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished the year! As I've mentioned elsewhere, the plan for the next year is finished, so the turnaround shouldn't be too slow. However, as classes have started, I'm going to have less time for writing. Don't expect much from me until the break.


End file.
